Genetic Recreation
by Sweet Danish Yummy
Summary: [DISCONTINUED 11.08.07] Based on the movies no movie category after the Next Mutation. Can one mutate after mutating?
1. The Mutation of the Mutants

Chapter One : "The Mutation of the Mutants" 

Author's Notes: Okay, okay, I know I should be working on the next installment of this fanfic, but something's been bothering me recently with this story, and I took action to fix it. It all boils down to Donatello.

Donny: Me? What'd I do?

Nothing. It's my fault. See, when I started this fic, all those years (it's been years?) ago, I had seen all three movies and that new one withVenus de Milo(whom you'll never hear me call that again, since I prefer Mei. I can't take her serious enough calling her Venus). However, I dropped the story then picked it up again, and I hadn't watched the movies in some time. Well, I just recently got my hands on the first three, and upon watching the first two, I'm appalled at the way I falsely characterized Donny. So I'm fixing my error and re-drafting the first few chapters.

Donny: I'm touched you care.

Of course I care. However, I have changed some things around, added stuff here, taken some stuff away, basically given this fic a facelift. And so I present the re-vamped first two chapters in what is now the redone Chapter One. Hope you enjoy (if you've made it through this Author's Note, applause and a cookie are in order. Go ahead, go get one, I'll wait.) Standard disclaimers apply, since of course I don't own these characters. I just wanna have fun with them.

* * *

It was really too late for him to even be thinking about working. Later he would blame this sole fact for the aftereffects this evening would bring to himself and others. Every chemist knew that all-nighter's mixed with decaf coffee was a recipe for disaster. Leon Vigil had been working for the past week on his experiment, hoping for a breakthrough. If only he would have listened to his professor's advise; putting in twenty-two hours a day forastraight weekwas no way to make a breakthrough in anything. Not a verbatim quote, mind you, but essentially that was the point Vigil's former professor had tried to get across to the stubborn young man. 

Leon rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands, feeling as if thousands of little needles were scratching at the sensitive organs. Sighing heavily, he adjusted his perch on the uncomfortable wooden stool, resting an elbow on the black table before him. Sheer exhaustion compelled him to allow his chin to drop onto his open palm, eyelids drooping. Dimly he knew that the scattering of his thoughts was his cue to crash. He wouldn't be able to finish tonight. In fact, he was now certain that if he didn't get at least twenty-four consecutive hours of sleep, he'd never be able to understand his notes, let alone finish his experiment.

He knew the other chemists thought him nuts; genetic reconstruction was not something that they ever bothered with. After all, they were chemists, not geneticists or biologists. However, having minored in genetics and with a constant curiosity of the natural world, Leon Vigil was a man bound by little, least of all a title. He was a chemist merely by trade, compliments of the diploma hanging framed in his office. At this point, even his job was arguable at the best times (namely, when his boss and fellow employees weren't present). His boss was a liberal man, and gave all his older employees free reign of the labs and their resources. However, Vigil being only a few years out of college and into the company, the big man with the dark eyes was hardly tolerant of Vigil's flagrant disregard for procedures and assignments. Vigil often wondered what made Mr. Booler keep him on staff.

Not that he much cared. Jobs restrained one so. He'd prefer a lab of his own, where he could keep his own hours and not have to argue with co-workers. Of course, barring any chance of money falling from the sky into his lap, his own lab was a dream and nothing more.

Vigil began to pack his things, turning off burners and placing containers of catalysts and chemicals back where they belonged. Picking up the single remaining flask of pale blue chemicals, he grabbed his coat and walked out. As he exited he nodded to the lean night man at the front of the building.

"Going home early tonight, aren't you Leon? Does this mean you've finished?" The night man asked, an almost-friend who had spent many nights chatting with the chemist. He found that Dr. Vigil was very unpretentious and, unlike his colleagues, did not look down the bridge of his nose at the security.

"Nope. Not even close, unless I've been working while I sleep. I'm just exhausted." Leon turned around and waved to the security guard. "Give my regards to Melissa, and tell her I hope she pops that kid out soon."

"You and her both. She says if she gets any bigger she's going to pull the kid out herself. Night, Leon."

"Night, Frank." Leon chuckled as he walked out the door;a second later his mirth was interrupted by a rather large yawn. Time for bed.

Whistling some nameless tune, he jogged through the parking lot to his car, parked at the end.

" 'She's open waiting for more, and I know he's only looking to score,' " Leon sang slightly off-tune. He really ought to insist that Michele play that CD more often. What was the name of that group..? Blink 186? No, Blink 128. No, that wasn't it either. Damn, he'd just ask her tomorrow. That is, if he could even drag his sorry butt out of bed.

It was really a tragic thing that happened next. After all, had he been more conscientious with his time, he would have been more alert, thus avoiding the next chain of events. However, one can't change the past as one pleases, and hindsight is 20/20. So it was by nothing but sheer over exhaustion and unobservant behavior that contributed to his accident.

The dip-well, if I were to be honest, I'd be more inclined to call it a ditch-in the street was in plain view for anyone with the common sense to look where he was going. However, Leon was too enchanted with the mystical glare of the streetlights (as one often is when one has almost no followable train of thought). As a result of all these many elements rolled into one lumbering zombie so ironically named Vigil, our very-tired chemist stumbled and tripped. The coat and flask flew from his grasp to arch gracefully through the air before they disappeared into the shadows of the evening. Leon wasn't able to observe much past the initial take-off of his things, seeing as the harsh meeting with the ground left him unconscious.

But hey, at least he was finally resting.

* * *

"Yo, dudes, check it out!" With that warning call, the four turtles and singular rat looked up from their individual tasks in time to see Michelangelo slide down the metal handrail of their underground home. Hehopped off just before gravity would take over and have his bottom end met harshly with the concrete, andbounded into the room with a broad grin. In one hand were a coat and a flask with some strange kind of blue liquid contained in it. 

"I found this." He held up the coat and flask for them to see, though it was clear that he was more interested in the flask than the coat.

Mei Pieh Chi looked up from her seat next to Splinter, both shocked out of their meditative trances by Mikey's loud entrance. Leonardo walked out of one of the abandoned subway cars that they'd transformed into their home, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand. Raphael had been lounging on one of the couches they'd "found" but now propped himself up onto his elbows. Donatello's eyes widened as he looked at the flask, interest sparking in his eyes.

"Where exactly did you find it?" Leo asked, stretching idly as he stood near Mei and Splinter. Raphael got up and joined his brother, silent.

Michelangelo grinned sheepishly and glanced at Splinter. "Well, I kinda found it near this lab, about five miles south from here...above ground." He rubbed the back of his head with his spare hand and began explaining in a rush. "See, I thought I saw someone hurt and got up to see if they were all right, but I noticed the coat and flask first, and was about to go to the guy when an ambulance pulled into the parking lot and I had to turn shell and run. No one saw me, I swear!"

Splinter only nodded, signifying that he was not upset.

"I wonder what this is?" Donatello snatched the flask from Mikey's grasp. Hepeered through the glass at what it contained, swirling it gently. "It's too bright to be water, and not thick enough to be any solution I've ever read about. It's almost as if it's not actually a liquid, but rather a compound somehow trapped between the liquid phase and gas phase."

If Raphael had eyebrows, this would have been where he raised them. Donny was in his pondering-the-questions-of-the-universe frame of mind. This meant that there wouldn't be much any of them could do to prevent him from taking the flask and experimenting on the contents.

"Maybe it's mouthwash!" Mikey joked, grabbing the flask back from Donny.Theturtle withthe purple bandanalooked at his now empty hands in shock. "In which case, I think Raph should have first dibs!"

Raphael glared viciously at his brother, ready to pounce on him and kick his shell. Leoleveled a look at him and shook his head slightly. Grudgingly Raphael relaxed and crossed powerful arms over his chest. He'd let that one slide, for now.

"Hey!" Donny took the flask back from Mikey. "I'm the smart one, therefore I, by default, get all the unidentified substances."

"You want unidentified substance, go check out the bathroom. Or the closet. I found it, it's mine!" The argument reached it's peak as the two both got a hand on the flask and began tugging on it in a typical brotherly fashion, both shouting insults at one another. Leo sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward, rubbing his hairless head.

"Would you two just cut it out?" He asked the two. Both ignored him and continued the fight, now yelling threats at one another.

"Boys." Mei shook her head, resting her chin on her palm, elbow on her knees. "You'd think they'd learn to resolve their arguments peacefully."

"Give it to me!" With that and an extra hard yank, Donatello, who had his back to the group, managed to gain control of the flask. However, having gotten used to the opposite pull of his brother on said object, he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. The subject of the argument flew from his grip and for the second time in a very short period, arched through the air and crashed to the ground. This time, the coat didn't break its fall, and the flask shattered. The liquid, upon such rough contact, vaporized into a pale blue gaseous fog that surrounded all of them in seconds.

"Don't inhale it! It might be toxic!" Donatello said from where he lay on the ground, inadvertently taking the gas into his system even as he cautioned the others against it.

The others, only too happy to oblige with their book-smart friend and brother, all decided to hold their breath until the fog dissipated. Funny thing about holding your breath, though: most people feel compelled to inhale deeply prior to the length of time while refusing to take in air. Therefore, everyone took a deep breath and held it. On the ground, Donny groaned and rolled his eyes.

It only took a few seconds for the air to clear, and the moment it did, Donny jumped up and started yelling at them.

"For the love of...when I told you not to inhale, that meant not to inhale! And what do all of you do? Take a big 'ole whiff of air into your lungs!"

Splinter blinked, surprised at the strength of Donatello's rage, understanding that it was only because he was worried for the health of the others.

"Uh...Donny?" Michelangelo said tentatively, looking at his brother as if unsure about his mental state at the moment.

"_What_?" Donny yelled, turning to glare at him.

"When you told us not to breath it..." He began, scratching the back of his head once more, "..._you_ kinda inhaled..."

All Donny could do was level a glare at the youngest of their brothers while Leo and Raph laughed.

* * *

Over the next few days, none of them felt very well. In fact, for the most part, they felt like they were being torn apart and mangled from the inside out. All of them had fevers, and their skin was so pale it was almost like looking through a thin piece of jade. 

Raphael and Mei seemed to have it worse, because Raphael's shell became very sensitive until any contact between it and even a pillow was painful. As one can imagine, this only succeeded in worsening his mood.

Mei conceded to have Donatello examine her when her symptoms arose. From his observations that first day, she was a mess; her eyes were dull, her skin almost gray. She was sweating profusely, and showing signs of only heading downhill. During that night she hadmanaged to lose weight, and her face was gaunt the last time he saw her. Of course, by the second day she'd holed up in her room and refused to let anyone see her, apparently not eating or drinking either.

Leonardo couldn't manage to keep any food down, and only found relief from his stomach and side aches by sleeping. He claimed his head was pounding as if twenty members of the Foot were trying to get free from his skull. Not only that, but he was losing weight as well, and by the fourth day was smaller than Mei had been. Even his shell seemed to shrivel and thin, remaining hard in the center, but as it spanned outward having the feel of leathery skin.

Michelangelo refused to let Donatello examine him at first. This was partly because he felt guilty at introducing that flask into their clan (for he had already decided that this epidemic was caused by that odd gas), and partly because he refused to admit he was sick. While none of them had ever had more than a head cold by way of viruses, Mikey had the best track record, health wise. Eventually he gave in and allowed Donatello to make Mikey his "lab rat," as Michelangelo referred to himself. Donatello found that the jokester was showing similar symptoms to the rest of them, which only worried Donny more.

Splinter had lost all his hair, except for what few tufts were on the top of his head. Even those few coarse locks had turned shock-white in color, hanging limply on his bald forehead. He didn't lose much weight, and actually began to fill out around the hips and shoulders. And while Donatello wouldn't mention it, he privately noted that it appeared that the muscles beneath his arms, legs, and abdomen were reforming and strengthening. Splinter didn't complain at all, even though his whole face looked frail. Strangest werehis ears, whichwere lowering and rounding.

These were the things Donatello couldn't explain, and therefore kept to himself and to one side in his mind. These irregularities and inexplicable events would only distract him while he tried to find some way to ease his brother's, his Master's, and Mei's pain.

Donatello himself was as sick as the rest of them, if not worse, but refused to let it keep him from trying to help. He stayed up almost all day, experimenting with possible remedies, his cough tearing at his vocal cords and lungs. It wasn't until late into the evening on the fourth day that he noticed his hands.

His nearly dropped his pencil he was so stunned. He reprimanded himself for not noticing it sooner, but allowed himself the small comfort that he'd been very distracted. Holding up one hand to eye level, adjusting it so that the light burning from the lamp hit his palm, he examined every inch of it's surface. He'd noticed that all of them were losing weight and that almost every part of them had shrunk in size, but what he hadn't noticed was something that stared him in the face. Something right under his now itching beak.

His fingers looked to be splitting in half.

Well, not all three of them; just the two at the top. The thumb was smaller and turned more outward than normal and his bone structure in it looked slightly different. But his other two fingers demanded all his attention. They were as thick as they always had been, but now he noticed that right down the middle of both, the skin had become thinned. Indeed, it had also kind of shrunken and shriveled so that it almost looked like there were two separate digits under the thin, gray skin.

Donatello pulled off his mask and rubbed his eyes, which oddly enough were blurring constantly now. He squinted at the paper he'd been writing on, and then attempted to pick up where he had left off. He couldn't. He kept looking at his hands, and the sight of them almost made him retch. The unfamiliarity of it appalled him in such a way that it was all he could think of.

Scratching the top off his head, he noticed for the first time that both the top and side of his head as well as his nose now itched. His idly ran his fingers over the normally smooth, bald surface of his scalp.

Maybe it was because of all the other surprises, but somehow the discovery that his head was no longer smooth didn't surprise him. With mute fascination, he ran his newly deformed fingers over the scratchy surface, feeling the tiny pinpricks of rough hair poking through his skin. While it was not uncommon for them to have little hairs appear in various places on their bodies, most of them died rather quickly.Those that didn't were so fine and thin that they only served as sensory detectors. These, he could tell, would not fall into either category.

With a growing sense of dread, he began to form his theory. What he came up with he didn't like. Sighing, he got up and walked toward the subway cars, heading for the door that led to Mei's quarters.

Leo and Mikey stumbled out from their rooms, looking no worse than before but far from better. Donny supposed he should be grateful for that small reassurance. He inclined his head to them, feeling oddly subdued.

Leo managed a ragged hello, his voice half a level deeper than usual. Mikey nodded as well, sweat dripping from his forehead down between his eyes and off his beak.

"Mei?" He was embarrassed at the way his voice broke, but his vocal cords were already screaming in protest from all the coughing, and at the moment he wasn't willing to push himself.

"Go away!" The shrill sound was more of a wail than a command, and Donny saw his expression mirrored on his brother's faces.

"Mei, are you okay?" Leo ventured.

"Please, leave me alone!" Her voice was now backed by emotion, sobs enunciating each word. "I don't want you to see me."

"I have to have a look at you, Mei. I think I know what's going on."

"Come back when you do know and have a way to fix it!"

Mikey sighed and attempted to retrieve his sense of humor, forgotten these past few days due to the sickness battering down the doors of his defensive system.

"Come on babe, give Donny a break. The more lab rats he has to observe, the more likely he is to make a breakthrough."

"Please don't. I'm too embarrassed..."

Donny felt his patience wearing thin, and was about to break down the door when Leo stopped him. Donatello stepped back, confused, but then Leo pushed the door aside easily. It hadn't been locked.

"No!" That final plea, the final command for them to stay away, was lost as the three peeked their heads around the corner to peer in on her.

Mei sat perched on her bed, cover drawn around her thin shoulders, body completely covered except for the one hand that clenched it shut, her feet, and her neck and head.

What they did see was enough for Donny to come crashing to a conclusion so abruptly that it left him dizzy. They almost couldn't recognize Mei Pieh Chi, for she looked nothing like the beautiful turtle that had come into their lives.

Hair-actual hair-had grown with what must have been atrocious speed, for it capped her head neatly. It matted in some places from sweat but there was no doubting it's existence. Not only that, but her entire facial structure had changed. Replacing her beak was a straight nose with two eyebrows arching thinly to either side at the top. Beneath the pale eyebrows was the only thing that could have reminded them that she was Mei: crystal blue, almond shaped eyes that indeed would be impossible on a turtle, but matched the bandana that lay on her lap. Dark circles dominated the area beneath these terrified eyes. Her lips were full, pale red in color. Another thing that struck them, of course, was her skin tone, which Donny remembered as observing to be ashen gray the first day of her sickness. Now it was flushed with the red blood that flowed beneath it, the skin so pale in some places that the blue veins were clearly visible. Beneath the cap of hair, Donny could barely discern ears, small but well formed. Her hands and feet were that of a human as well, with five digits on each appendage instead of three.

Terror and humiliation were the two emotions that warred for dominance on her face, shame hunching her shoulders beneath the thick blanket. Tears coursed down her pale cheeks as all color drained from her face at the sight of them.

Leo moved first, making it to the bed in two steps and throwing his arms around her in the same motion. She let loose the torrent of her tears, freeing from her much-changed physical body all the pent-in emotions.

"What happened...to me?"

Leonardo stroked her back, catching Donatello's eyes and sending him a look that answered his final question-she no longer had a shell.

She was a human-completely and fully by Donatello's assumptions.

"We'll find out. And then we'll fix it."

She only continued to cry as the boys exchanged glances.

"What's the noise all about?" Raphael joined them, looking more like Mei than the other three. Hair the color of an aged red wine dominated the top of his head, long enough to fall down from the pull of gravity but not long enough to cover much. He too had acquired ears. Raphael appeared to have misplaced his beak, except for the bulk of the middle, which Donny assumed would reform into his more human nose. His eyes were still wide and dark, though maybe a little closer together, and Donny could almost detect eyebrows over the haunted orbs.

He took one look at Mei and stopped suddenly, something changing in his eyes. He flicked his gaze from Mei's tear-streaked face to Leonardo, who continued to comfort her. Something in his expression changed slightly, but he then nodded, turned, and left. He returned moments later with Splinter. Their master was bent over almost double in a fit of coughing.

"So, it appears that we have a problem on our hands." Raphael said blandly. His voice was as raspy as Donny's, and the usual sneer that marred his face was absent. He spoke to the whole group but his gaze rarely shifted from Mei and Leonardo. "If Mei is any indication, then I think we know what's in store for us. And seeing as all of us are fairly smart, I think we can figure out the cause." He gave Mikey a significant look, and the younger turtle blushed.

"No one is to blame for this incident." The pause in Splinter's voice right before that last word could have easily been for him to catch his breath from his coughing fit. "However, I think we need to discuss some things to figure out how to handle this situation, and how to possibly fix it."

Mikey spoke for the first time since Mei's door had been opened. "Well, I suppose in a few days we'll all be needing those shorts of mine." He was of course referring to the stash of colorfully loud Hawaiian pants that he'd worn right before going into the past to rescue April.

Mei was actually the first one to laugh, wiping one hand across her face and pulling gently away from Leonardo.

"In a few days you'll be able to go pick up the pizza, instead of scaring the delivery boy out of his wits."

Mikey allowed a grin to play across his pale cheeks.

"You know, I hadn't thought of that aspect of our situation. Being able to walk the streets of New York without having to wear a hat and trench coat." Donatello said thoughtfully, rubbing his nose. "Well, in that case, perhaps we could buy better clothes."

"With what money?" Raphael asked sarcastically. "If memory serves, saving the oh-so-grateful residents of New York's ass didn't come with a very hefty paycheck."

"Raphael." Splinter shot him a warning look. Raphael frowned but said nothing.

"We can pay for pizza every other day, can't we? We could just resort to cutting down on the pepperoni intake and spend the money on suitable attire instead." Mikey looked indignant at Donatello's suggestion of forfeiting his precious pies until he saw the looks his friends shot him. He slouched in his seat opposite Mei and Leo.

Donatello began pacing the room. "We could always contact April. Or Casey, for that matter."

"No good." Leonardo shook his head. "Casey went out of town on 'business'."

"But I think April's back." Mikey added. "What day is it? She was only supposed to be gone twenty days."

Donatello, consulting the small calendar tacked to the wall of Mei's room, nodded. "I think she gets back today. Or maybe yesterday..."

Mikey shot up and ran out of the room, saying over his shoulder, "I'll call her!"

They all got up and left the room, Mei still clutching the blanket around her. None of them asked why. Really, they already knew, and wanted to save her the embarrassment of admitting to her naked condition.

Mikey stood leaning against the wall, phone pressed to his ear. Donatello had noticed the ears, but by now all the things around him were so extreme that no one thing could really register completely.

"Hello? April?" He grinned. "Guess. Oh come on, you have to know it's your favorite turtle in the world..." His face dropped and he pouted. "No, it's not Raphael!"

Raphael would have allowed himself to gloat had it not been for the fact that mixing up his and Mikey's voice was more of an insult than anything else.

"Well, anyway, feel like paying us a visit? Actually, it's kind of an emergency." He glanced at Mei and appeared to blush, looking away quickly. "And could you bring some, uh, female things?" He paused, looking at the others, and turned away, mumbling into the mouthpiece. Then he nodded firmly. "Ok, see ya in ten." With that he hung up.

* * *

"Hey guys!" April bounded down the steps of the abandoned subway, grocery bags practically spilling from her arms. "I brought loads of munchies, and some healthy treats that I think Splinter will approve of. And why on Earth did you want me to bring clothes..?" She trailed off with her sentence as she looked into the living area, where everyone had settled himself or herself. Except for Raphael, who was pacing nervously back and forth, wearing a pair of Michelangelo's pants and looking ridiculously thin. 

Her jaw dropped, and if it weren't for Raph's quick reflexes, the things she had been holding would have made a rather extensive mess on the floor.

"Welcome to the special, one-time viewing of 'The Mutation of the Mutants'." Mikey joked.

April could only stare.

* * *

_To Be Continued_


	2. Movin' On Up!

Chapter Two : "Movin' on Up!" 

Author's Notes: Again, it's all about Donny.

Donny: I'm her favorite. :buffs fingers against shirt:

I maintain that I have no favorite, but I will say that the majority of the changes made in this chapter, formerly chapter three, center around Donatello. Mainly his appearance. Upon watching the movies I decided that I didn't give him the proper look, especially by making him the shortest, so I changed things up a bit. Sorry for any inconvenience, but hey, what can I say? I love this guy.

Donny: Told ya so.

Anyway, onward, and standard disclaimers apply, because if I owned these characters, I'd think of better ways to use them (no offense to any intended).

* * *

So far they'd been gathered around for an hour, talking about seemingly nothing. They somehow managed to answer all of April's questions, despite a considerable lack of knowledge amongst themselves. This much could be said for calling their friend down to them in their hour of change; she raised questions that they would never have considered to be justified. Some of them might not have been necessary, but she asked them nonetheless. Perhaps it was caused by the shock of the situation, or perhaps it was just common for her train of thought asa reporter. Nonetheless, interesting and almost unanswerable inquiries popped forth from her mind into their laps.Each one was debated and pondered over until, after an exhaustible and almost unnecessary length of time, they reached a decision. 

One of these questions was, "Where will you stay?"

"Stay?" Donatello offered a confused expression. "What are you talking about? We'll stay where we belong: here. Underground." It was painfully apparent that for once he hadn't even thought over what he'd said, just blurted out an answer that had been firmly ground into his head. For almost eighteen years now they'd lived in their subterranean home, a place that offered protection from their enemies, both everyday people and the twisted criminal minds they fought to rid the world of.

Leo rubbed his chin, a gesture that displayed the five long, strong fingers on his hand. April locked her eyes on them, studying them with a fascinated curiosity. How was it that this liquid-gas they had discovered had been able to bring about this change in them, when the people at TGRI had not even been able to tell them the actual contents of the "ooze" that had been created by accident and had resulted in their half-turtle, half-human form? What genius-or maniac, depending on the situation-had come up with this mixture? Too bad they couldn't get any more, or even find it's creator, so they could answer some of these questions.

"Perhaps she has a point. I mean we're given an opportunity to join the people above-"

"Opportunity?" Raphael jumped on the word, practically shouting, his voice the same if not a few notches deeper. "I would hardly call this an 'opportunity,' Leonardo." The full name of his brother signified his irritation.

"Calm down!" Mei jumped to her feet, April's clothes on her slight, if not strong frame moving with the jerk of her motion. She placed one hand on Raphael's chest, the other on Leonardo's. The gentle touch of her mind on theirs was noticed by all, since Mei could not use the powers of her Shin obi training without giving away the concentration required in the way her body tensed.

Raphael wrenched away from her, as if the breaking of physical contact could stop the bond of her mind to his.

"First of all," April could hear the barely-held tension in his voice, "this is a curse, not an opportunity. We were born and raised turtles. Granted, we may have been mutated to a more half-human form of turtles, but our origin was that of a turtle. This-" and with a sweeping gesture he took in his person as well as the others, "is an unnatural condition due to an accident that we are now paying for. It is not natural for turtles to become human-"

"Just as it is no more natural that five baby turtles and a rat were mutated to think and react, to walk erect and grow to human proportions. To have human minds and human tendencies." Leonardo said tersely, white teeth grinding together, fists at his side. He ignored Mei's presence, practically shoved her mind from his by blocking whatever calming influence she might have had with another wave of anger.

"Natural is hardly a word you could use to describe us." Michelangelo said, oddly and uncharacteristically subdued, wallowing in a self-pity borne of the tragedy that plagued his rag-tag family.

Final decision came from an unexpected source as Splinter stood, calming both boys with a mere look.

"Whatever the cause of our current condition, and whatever may have been in the past, those were different situations and this is not then." He pointed firmly downward with a knobby finger, the muscles on the back of his hand flexing with the motion. He may have been old, but whatever this thing was, it was renewing Splinter in a way that was akin to the fountain of youth. Granted, his visage was that of an old man, near his late fifties, but April and the others could plainly see the strength and energy that almost radiated from his person. "Now we are no longer a half-man, half-turtle." He smiled ruefully at his 'children.' "Now we are wholly, completely human. And as such, we will no longer have to remain beneath the surface of the world we protect. I know it must be scary, being something different, in a different body. But remember that; it is only your _physical_ form that has changed. You are still the same, soul and mind, and that is truly what makes a person. Not the Earth suit, as it were." He took a deep breath. "You once fought me at every turn, however subtly, about remaining underground. Your forms of rebellion were different; pizza, befriending April and Casey, going to movies under the guise of a trench coat and hat..." He sighed as he glanced at Raphael but covered it by looking at all in turn. "Even you, Mei, with your early years under the protection of a village, were spoiled by being able to walk about among people who thought you their goddess. In your own ways, you've longed for a world above that I have been forced to keep from you, as much as I possibly can. So don't look at yourselves now as drastically changed, my sons, but rather now without the hindrance of your visage to keep you from the world above."

And with that, he sat down, and the atmosphere in the room dramatically changed.

"So, with our newfound freedom, where should we go?" Donatello restated April's question.

"Well, I suppose we should find a place to stay...a place with room enough for all of us."

"In order to find a place and keep it, you need money." Raphael pointed out antagonistically. "At least this place is free."

Mei looked thoughtful, and then spoke. "And in order to get money, you need a job, which requires a degree of some kind."

"And in order to acquire a degree, you need to go to school."

"And to get into school, you need things like an identification card, social security number, and proof of existence in general." Raphael's cynicism was in truly good form that evening.

April sat up straighter, looking hard at each of them in turn, examining their features to see if her little seed of a thought was justified enough to be planted firmly in the minds of the others.

"I think I have an idea that would work, but it'll take a while for us to initiate it."

"How long?"

"What's the idea?"

"Why don't I like the sound of that?"

April scooted forward in her seat, hands on her knees. "Okay, so you need a place to stay, right? You can stay at my place." She referred to her new condo. She'd recently gotten a well-deserved raise and used the surplus in cash to get a bigger condo. This one wascloser to where she worked andin a better part of town.

"Hold on!" Leonardo stood up, palm of his right hand resting on the tips of the fingers of his left to form a "t". "Time out. Remember the last time we stayed at your place? We drove you nuts! Not to mention the fact that there's one more of us now."

April waved away his protests, too caught up in her plan to be put down by his good points. "First of all, this place isn't nearly as small as the other one. Three bedrooms and two baths, with a living room and kitchen."

"Why did you get such a big place?" Mei inquired, pulling her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees and wrapping her arms around them.

April shrugged. "It was nice, near where I worked, and fairly priced. All the room was just an added bonus. Anyway, it'll be cramped for you boys, and Mei can room with me.Then we can begin registering you, after you look more...well, normal."

"Even more so than now?" Raphael shot back, arms crossed, tilted green eyes flashing. As much as he privately wanted to give in to the excitement he felt welling up in the room, his pugnacious, pessimistic half was having too much fun trying to rain on the gathering parade.

"Yes, Raphael. As you're all aware, immigrants from other countries come over from native lands to the land of the free all the time. I can say that you're immigrants and we can register you as to-be residents. All that's really required is that you pay U.S. taxes and live here for a year. You can apply for a social security number, and all that's required is a fee. After that, you can take the G.E.D. test, which will give you a high school diploma equivalent, and from there you can go to a community college or get a job." She shrugged and leaned back in her chair, smiling at the looks on their faces. The plan was beautiful in its simplicity, and while some of the facts may not have been entirely accurate, her point couldn't have been truer. After all, wasn't New York City a picture perfect example of America's open-arm policy. Home for the underdog, all mutts welcome.

"That might actually work." One could almost see the wheels turning inside Donatello's head as he worked through this idea, going over possible results and events, and liking the general outcome it produced. "How did you come up with it?"

"I'm just that damn good. It will take time before you can say, 'I'm a member of the United States' but you should be able to get jobs, get a G.E.D., go to school, all that whatnot, almost immediately."

"Well then, now what? Do we start packing?" Michelangelo was eager to move back in with April. They had a better time when in her company. They usually ended up showing-off for her, pulling outrageous stunts that theycould have donewithout her around, butthatwere alwaysbetter with an audience.

"Can I make a suggestion?" April grinned broadly as she pointed at them. "How about some decent clothes? I mean, you guys can't continue to run around in those awful pants, and Splinter, I think you're going to need more than that piece of rags."

Splinter looked down at his clothing and then nodded. "A wise observation, Miss O'Neil."

"I'll take you shopping, buy you some decent attire." April said decisively, brushing her hands together.

"Whoa, April." Donatello stood up. "We have some money and besides, you're already housing us and helping us. Giving us money is where we have to-"

April held up a manicured finger, shushing Donny in mid-sentence. "You guys have saved my butt more than once." She added as an after-thought. "Besides, once you all get jobs, you can take me out to thank me for all my help." She grinned and motioned them to start packing. "I'll help, but first I'm going to rent a truck, so we can make as few trips as possible."

* * *

The entire move took two days, one to pack, the other to transport and begin the stages of unpacking. 

Leonardo had never known there were stages to unpacking. Call him crazy, but he'd envisioned this thing being a one-day venture. After all, it had never taken them that long before. Yet now here he was, in the middle of the afternoon of the second day, and only now was he dragging the stuff into April's condo.

He could tell the others were just as tired as he. Why did she have to rent the top floor condo of a six-story building? There was a condo on the first, third, and fifth story, the second, fourth, and sixth being the second story to each individual condo. So they ended up walking up five stories to deposit the boxes and bags in front of the door of her apartment for Mei, Splinter, and April to drag in, identify, and place in the proper rooms.

They'd been able to forgo bringing many of their things, leaving them for safe keeping in the subway area until they got their own place. So in all they didn't have as much junk as they could have, but enough to make the truck sink slightly on it's wheels as they had loaded it up. Not a good omen.

Leonardo pushed a hand through the tangles of curly black hair that had already appeared on his head. He could only pray his hair wouldn't always grow so fast. If it did he'd have to get a haircut every day just to keep it out of his eyes. He noticed that Michelangelo was having a similar fight with his wavy blonde tresses, finally ending the humorous looking battle by retrieving an orange bandana from a box and securing it around his forehead.

Raphael had more hair then all of the guys, the fiery red locks falling to below his ears. Right nowsome of the strands were standing on end due to static electricity. He was grumbling to himself, as he often did, but accepted the bandana from Mikey, who was balancing one box marked "Donny's FRAGILE" on all sides on his shoulder, another box under his other arm. He started up the steps, stumbling only once as he miscalculated the distance between stairs and got thrown off balance. Donny, coming down the stairs, lunged to aid Mikey, taking the "FRAGILE" box and walking back up the stairs with a less burdened Mikey on his heels.

"Do you possibly think that we could have any more junk?" Raphael asked in an annoyed voice, launching a bag full of who-knew-what into the air. Leo caught it easily and put it on top of the pile they were making in the driveway. The next bag caught him square in the chest, followed rapidly by an errant lampshade, which knocked him in the nose and tumbled to the ground.

"Ow." Leo's word was more out of instinct than actual pain. Raphael ignored him and instead picked up a stereo and prepared to toss it to Leo.

"Don't even think about it!" Mikey pounced on Raphael, ripping the stereo from his grip and hugging it to his chest protectively. "You can throw anything else, but the second you release my stereo to the will of gravity is the second I nail your ass to the ground and make your nose match your hair."

Michelangelo was smart enough to say this quickly and retreat out of arm's reach. Raphael glared atthe blonde boy'sbare back, which was already more tanned than the rest of theirs. Idly and almost absently, Raphael stretched, his hand reaching back and rubbing on the scars that had once been on his shell and now, instead, had transferred to his back. Odd how that worked. He maintained the scars on his back, but all of them had lost the spots that had patterned their skin. Raphael found that fascinating but wouldn't admit to it. Besides, he doubted Donatello could take another enigma-his head might explode.

He also found it interesting how they had all acquired distinguishing characteristics. Raphael paused to reflect, leaning against a stand of cardboard boxes.His own hair was red and straight, his eyes deep green and tilted slightly. His jaw and shoulders were broad, while he was kind of stocky in build, his muscles clearly defined under his olive-tinted skin. His nose was broad, a theme that seemed to be recurrent throughout his body. In short, his physique resembled that of a body builder, he admitted to himself, silently proud.

Leonardo, though, was tall and lean, his muscles not as prominent as Raphael's by any means. He had picked up a couple of bags and boxes, and while the muscles in his arms and back clearly flexed, they were not as obvious as Raphael's. Though as he began climbing the stairs Raphael had to grudgingly admit that he had good legs. Raph thought he looked more like a track runner or soccer player. His hair was all tight curls and dark as a raven's wing, right now tangling and bouncing in every direction due to its length. His eyes flashed dark blue; so dark they were almost black, with a straight nose and strong chin. Secretly, Raph thought the shape of his mouth was odd; perhaps the upper lip wasn't fully developed yet. His upper lip was fairly thin, the dip in the middle not very well defined, while the lower lip was fuller.

Michelangelo looked rather humorous, which matched his personality perfectly. His blonde hair was so light that it was almost as white as Splinter's, and wavy, forever tumbling in front of his eyes. His eyes were at some point's brown, and others green. His nose was broad, his lips full, his skin dark from both tan combined with the skin tone he'd been granted. He was shorter then Leo was but taller than Mei, with strong legsand a well-defined abdomen leading down to a narrow waist. His chest wasn't as defined as his back. His chin was pointed, his eyes wide and thickly lashed, giving him an oddly innocent, young look. He had a high forehead too, Raphael noted as the energetic Mikey bounded down the stairs and picked up more stuff.

Donatello's hair was a combination of chocolaty-brown and dark as night black, which waved down to his ears and away from his face, displaying intelligent, tilted brown eyes. He was taller than Michelangelo, about even with Raphael. He was tough looking, since his shoulders and neck were well formed and the jerk of his muscles beneath his arms and legs was apparent with every movement. His nose was straight and narrow. His lower lip was fuller than it's mate. Donny's most distinguishing characteristic was his dark eyebrows, which came to a point right in the middle.

Mei was mildly attractive, Raphael conceded.Her pale,straight brunette hair was still growing too quickly and now hung below her shoulders. Her icy blue eyes were almond-shaped and thickly lashed. Her figure was perfect, though, her abdomen flat. The muscles were not apparent, which set the theme with the rest of her body. She was built small, her frame hiding her strength, with long, delicate fingers and long legs. Raphael grinned to himself as she swung around the banister at the bottom of the steps and walked toward him with a bottle of what was probably cold water in her hand.

"The others are upstairs with theirs, but I figured you were too wrapped up in your work to stop for much of anything." She smiled and, as she made her way back up the stairs, actually winked at him.

Thank God she had a better sense of humor now. Or a sense of humor, he should say, since when she first came she had none to speak of. Too many years living with them had had some adverse, if not welcome, effects on her personality. Raphael figured she'd picked up most of her "humor" tips from either him or Leonardo, since she didn't lean toward outlandish pranks like Michelangelo, or puns and wrong-word usage like Donny.

He looked at the bottle in his hand, which was already beading with condensation, and was touched that she had thought of him. Part of him had always felt something toward the female, though since he rarely paid attention to that particular part of himself he didn't bother identifying it. Buthe had a feelinghe wouldn't be able to ignore his feelings for much longer, whether Raph liked it or not.

* * *

That evening, the things had finally all been transferred upstairs and the group all slumped into the various pieces of furniture in the living area. Too tired to even begin unpacking all those bags and boxes, too tired to get up and go to bed, they all merely fell onto whatever was available in the nearest vicinity. 

April was kind enough to first bring food, then ice packs and heating pads for the over-exerted guys. Each was accepted with no more than a grunt of gratitude, but April took the meaning as it was intended and felt a touch of sympathy for the guys. After all, that was a lot of junk to haul first up to the street, into a truck, and then back out of the truck, up five flights of stairs, and into a condo where it went up yet another flight of stairs. She could only imagine how their quads felt.

Splinter was sitting on the edge of the couch, Raphael kneeling on the drop cloth covered floor in front of him. The old man was calmly and neatly arranging his hair into a shorter mass on his head, the red locks drifting either onto his back or shoulders or onto the ground. Raphael's legs and shoulders were killing him, and sitting still in such a position only made it seem worse. Still, he knew it wouldn't take long, and frankly would look worse if he fidgeted.

Donatello sat beside Splinter, but was right now stretched out as much as he could. Hislegs were sprawled in front of him, hands clasped over his stomach, head tilted back on the couch. His mouth hung open,and he was cutting down the Amazon forest by the sounds of his snores.

Michelangelo, perched on a bean bag chair, immediately took up both an ice pack and a heating pad, placing the source of warmth on the back of his neck and the frozen blue pack on his bruised knee. Groaning with what was taken as relief, he leaned back in his bean chair and relaxed.

Leonardo stirred restlesslyin his seat on the floor across from Michelangelo, where April sat in her Lay-Z-Boy. Mei, who'd been carefully distributing drinks and plates of nuked food to everyone, noticed the fidget.After handingLeo his food and drink shekneeled behind him and began kneading the giant knots out of his neck and back. Leo was startled at first, given that it was a new sensation, feeling human hands kneading at his back (his back- he didn't have a shell anymore, and was having a hard time adjusting to it). Still, after a second he relaxed into it, finding the repetitive pressing and rubbing effective against his sore, strained muscles.

Michelangelo looked up long enough to feel a stab of jealously, then muttered something about his oh-so warm and compliant lover and moved the heating pad lower on his back. Had it been any other day he might have asked Mei if he could be next, but he was tired, too tired for much of anything except-yawn-sleep. And with that he was out like a light, the ice pack falling to his feet, forgotten.

Splinter ran his fingers over Raph's shoulders, brushing errant clips of hair from them, then placed the scissors on the coffee table. He motioned that Raphael should inspect it to see ifthe haircutwas to his liking. Since Raph really didn't care what his hair looked like it didn't much matter, but he admitted that Splinter had done very well and told him so. His hair was now cut close to his head all around with barely an inch left. The tresses were just long enough to still feel soft under his hand, but short enough to stand straight up, daring gravity to oppose it.

"You'll do well to take a shower." Splinter suggested, though knew there was no chance any of them would hit the showers tonight. Which of course meant a fight over it tomorrow, and a lot of cold showers for those last few that had decided to sleep in.

April was eating and watching Mikey with amused interest, then gazed for a moment at Donatello, who was in the fifth movement of his "Ode to a Chainsaw" medley. Mei currently had Leo on his stomach and was kneeling with her knees on either side of his hips, massaging at a particularly stubborn knot while Leo appeared to doze.

"Tomorrow I suggest you take the boys clothes shopping." April said to Splinter, who was deftly picking up the corners of the drop cloth and walking to the balcony door to shake it out.

"I take it you'll go with Mei?" He said knowingly, flashing a smile at April, who returned it.

"What, let her go with the guys? No offense, but there's nothing cute about a girl that wears clothes that scream of testosterone."

Mei looked up and said calmly while applying such force behind her palms that Leo grunted in pain, "It is very rude to talk about someone as if they are not there." As an afterthought, she patted Leo's shoulders and muttered an apology, to which her return reply was a grunt of acceptance. She went back to her gentle kneading, sending calm thoughts to Leonardo lest she inadvertently hurt him again.

"Very well. What time should we plan to be home for lunch? Or will it be dinner by the time you two are done?"

April tossed a look at Mei, who offered an excited grin. "Shopping should take much of the day for us girls, so let's say about six? That gives me time to make dinner."

Mei immediately offered her assistance as she eased away a knot, her fingers lingering idle on Leo's bare back as she spoke.

Raphael looked at Donatello, the snoring beginning to grate on his nerves. Good thing he wasn't rooming with him, or else Donny would be rudely awakened to a pillow in the kisser every time that log-splitting snort of his began to fill the air. Raph only hoped the walls were thick.

As it were, he, Splinter, and Leonardo were sharing a room, the one closest to the guest bathroom. Donatello would room with Michelangelo, who apparently wasn't affected by the snoring. Mei was going to stay in April's master bedroom, giving the two girls access to the big bathroom.

_Probably for the best, too, considering girls take forever to get ready_. Raphael thought, unaware of the generalization.

The conversation, which hadn't been going too strongly to being with, dwindled to silence, until they finally hauled themselves up and off to bed. Donatello seemed tosleep-walk while Mikey yawned behind him. Three doors clicked shut, seven sheets were turned down, and seven very tired heads fell victim to the cool comfort of their pillows as they drifted into sleep.

* * *

_To Be Continued_


	3. Adventures in Shopping & Immigration

Chapter Three : "Adventures in Shopping and Immigration Offices" 

Authors Notes: Boy, a lot of changes to this one, formerly chapters four and five. With chapter four it wasn't so much about Donny-

Donny: Hey!

As it was about Mikey.

Mikey: _Hah! _:does a little dance:

Yep, I felt I hadn't put enough significance on his conversation with Rebecca, Miss Sales-Clerk-Hottie, so I added a bunch to that, not to mention just fleshing out the general story. Also, I noticed that my timelines conflicted with one another (I posted Chapter Six without rereading the rest of my story, and hence made the mistake of eluding that Mikey hadn't called Rebecca yet, and I don't know about you girls, but if some guy waited a month to call me, I wouldn't waste the time in answering) so I'm fixing that by adding it in here and editing chapter six. Also, since clumping chapter five with four left out my former Note, I would here like to thank Red Turtle, who had provided enough motivation and compliments as well as criticism for me to even consider this re-editing venture. Thanks a bunch! Standard disclaimers, blah, blah, blah.

* * *

In that first month of their human existence, Raphael had no idea how they survived. By all reasoning they drew entirely too much attention to themselves and the fact that they weren't used to being around that many people. That alone should have set off alarm bells with the local authorities, or even worse, ex-members of the Foot. But by the grace of God, or maybe because it was just New York citizens way of ignoring everything except what pertains to them, they were not subject to anything except each other. Which alone might have been bad enough. 

It started with the shopping, which was an adventure that made them want to hurt a certain someone. Of course Michelangelo could never be controlled; they all knew that. But they discovered something that fateful day. Mikey with his brothers was one thing; Mikey with an audience was a whole different breed of outlandishness. And despite all they tried, there was no way to contain the blonde young man, who was reveling in the new way to express himself.

"Check it out!" Mikey popped out of the changing room wearing the most ridiculous combination of clothing ever conceived by man; truly these clothese were never intended to be worn at the same time. The baggy green cargo pants looked about two sizes too big. His bright orange camouflage-like tank topbarely reached his midsection and therefore showed off his washboard abs for all the world to see. Raphael had the sneaking suspicionthat it was from the women's department. Over this he wore a brown striped button down shirt hanging open.

Mikeystruck a pose with his hands on his hips, chest thrown out.His grin nearly split his face in two as a couple ofhapless girls wandered past. They took one look at him and broke into giggles, hurrying away and throwing glances over their shoulders.

"What?" He looked down at himself, confused. "These colors always looked fine together before. Then again, it might not be the colors. Are these pants supposed to be this big?"

"That would be a no." Raphael answered, still wondering at where he'd found that tank top, not to mention how he'd squeezed his broad shoulders and chest into it. No doubt it would be stretched beyond recognition once he got it off-if he could get it off without cutting it first.

Splinter sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Locks of his shoulder-length white hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked first to the ground, then to the ceiling, then to the young man he considered his son. "Michelangelo, I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Mikey grinned again. "You knew that, Master Splinter. Don't say it as if it comes as a sudden revelation."

Raphael arched an eyebrow at his brother, crossing his arms over the too-large black shirt with the faded words "Eat at Joes" written across the front, compliments of the Salvation Army. April had been kind enough to snatch them a few things in order for them to go on this little shopping expedition, not to mention handing Splinter a large wad of bills for him to buy the clothes. She wasn't worried about them getting mugged. Who would suspect five men who looked every bit of the bum to be carrying that much cash? That and the fact that they could very easily handle themselves should they fall victim to one of the crimes for which New York City was notorious left her with enough confidence that she didn't worry.

"And he does know big words." Raphael joked.

"Aw, I only let you think I'm dumb." Mikey winked at his brother then looked down at his clothes. "I like this tank top, and these pants, but I think I'll lose the brown shirt."

_Of course, lose the one thing that looks like it might actually fit._ Raphael thought, rolling his emerald green eyes.

"Can I help you with something?"

Mikey looked up and allowed his jaw to drop. The salesclerk that had just approached was very easily the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. _Well, aside from Mei. _His conscious asserted, feeling an alliance to the female despite the lack of a blood relationship to her.

The sales clerk wore a long skirt and white blouse, which complimented her figure while giving her a professional air. Her hair hung in gentle, loose curls of pale gold that flowed down her back, clasped at the back of her neck by a decorative clip. Add to that a set of beautiful brown doe eyes and a knockout smile that displayed a row of perfectly even white teeth and you had a stupefied Mikey.

"Uh. . ."

"I think he needs all the help he can get. But I'm sure you knew that just from looking at him." Raphael grunted, silently admiring the female as well. He preferred to be less obvious than his partner in crime, but that didn't mean that he was any less amazed at her beauty.

She graced Raphael with a dazzling smile before turning back to Michelangelo. "Well, my name is Rebecca. Perhaps I can find you those pants in your size?"

Mikey blushed, pulling up the article of clothing in question. None of them had gotten any underwear and modesty was a new concept that he was rapidly learning.

"I don't want to be any trouble, Rebecca."

She smiled again, this one reaching her eyes. She looked him over again, taking in the disheveled shoulder-length blonde tresses, pausing to appropriately appreciate his well-muscled stomach before locking his gaze again.

"It's no trouble, Mr..?"

"Uh, just Mikey."

"Mikey. That's cute. Appropriate." It took a moment for the subtlety of the flirt to reach Mikey, but when it did his face lit up like a red Christmas tree light. She withheld her giggle and instead said, "After all, it is my job. So are you going to let me do my job, or be difficult?" Her words held no sting for her tone insinuated much, though her expression remained openly neutral. Only her eyes gave away her thoughts and affirmed that Mikey wasn't misreading her.

"Oh, well, in that case, I think I'll let you do your job."

"What size are you?"

Mikey blinked, then twisted and turned and fought with the back hem of the pants. "Well, I'm not a size 'L.' We could try a size 'J,' maybe..."

Rebecca laughed. It was a pretty sound, very light and pleasant. Mikey wouldn't have minded listening to it some more, just to memorize the sound, but she quickly recovered her professional demeanor and straightened. "Well, then, let me go grab some medium pants and see how those work for you." And with that she disappeared between the racks of clothing.

Leonardo and Donatello appeared before her return, carrying an armload each of clothing.

"Blue jeans and t-shirts. The essentials in life." Donatello explained as Raphael peered at their piles curiously.

"And we grabbed some underwear and socks for the two of you." Leo explained, tossing both of them a plastic bag of socks and one filled with underwear.

"This is a joke, right?" Raphael glared at Leo, who only grinned in response. What Raph held in his hands was a packet of tightie-whities-only they were all bright red.

"Awesome!" Michelangelo examined his bag with deep interest. "How'd you find underoos with Batman on them in my size?"

"We're just that good."

"Scary sometimes, how good we are, isn't it?" Donatello and Leo slapped hands in a low five, just as a sales clerk approached. It was, of course, Rebecca, and her appearance almost sent Donny and Leonardo into shock. Their composure-not to mention any thoughts of acting cool-disappeared as she smiled at them. All they could do was stare at her in open-mouthed amazement as she handed Mikey the cargo pants.

Mikey had completely forgotten about the underwear, until he caught Rebecca eyeing them curiously. He blushed then, which he seemed to do quite often in her presence, and tossed them at Donny. They bounced off his chest, unnoticed, and fell to the floor. Rebecca picked them up and handed them to Mikey with an impish grin.

"I think they're kind of cute.Very boyish. Fits for a man who goes by such a cute moniker. Besides, it's nice to see a man who is still in touch with his inner child, and not afraid to show it." She smiled at Mikey, a slow smile that seemed to house hidden meaning, and Mikey was pretty certain what that might be. He was just glad she wasn't laughing at him.

"These should fit." She said abruptly, handing the pants to him as well. "And if you need anything else, just let me know."

"I do need something else!" He blurted suddenly. "I need your phone number."

She turned and looked at him, glancing for a moment at his companions. "Excuse me?"

" 'Cause, um...well, I'd like to see you again, you know, for something other than clothes."

She smiled again, beginning to walk away. "When you're done here, then we'll talk about something other than clothing."

With that she was gone.

"How does he do it?" Donny muttered, thinking aloud. "You talk to her for about five minutes, tops, and already she thinks you're cute?"

"She obviously doesn't know him very well, and is confusing cute with annoying." Raphael jabbed, smirking to take the edge off his words. Mikey knew Raphael loved him in a brotherly fashion, and that included his fun-loving personality.

"Still, she's willing to talk to him about something other than clothes, meaning out of the workplace, meaning date, meaning that Michelangelo got a date before the rest of us even started trying." Donny shook his head in amazement, then mock bowed to him. "Teach me, oh Master, in the ways of wooing."

"Ah, grasshopper, you have much to learn, but watch me and learn from my encounters, and one day you too shall be a Master Wooer."

Splinter merely rolled his eyes as Donny and Mikey continued their back-and-forth banter.

Shopping was an adventure in and of itself. After purchasing all the clothes they could ever need, not to mention shoes, they walked out with three large bags each. Rebecca's cell phone number was burning a hole in Mikey's pocket and Donny was still shaking his head in wonderment.

Of course, if they'd had any idea what the next few days were going to be like, they would have spent more time shopping. Because after that, it was all long lines behind people clutching their squalling children.Of course everybody was sweating and there wasn't a working air-conditioner anywhere in the immigration offices. Michelangelo, never one to be repressed, managed to entertain quite a few people with his jokes, though half the people waiting didn't speak a lick of English. Donatello tried to hold a conversation with an older Japanese couple behind them, but apparently said something wrong.Suddenly the husband started shouting at him in Japanese, followed by the little English he did know. It turned out the extent of his vocabulary was learned in a taxicab on the way there, and of course none of those words were appropriate for anyplace other than a taxicab (which was arguable, considering some of the expletive poetry he spewed forth with his heavy Japanese accent). The older man of course drew attention to their part of the line, and the immigrant officers gave them nasty looks. Moments later, however, the Mexican child behind the Japanese couple began repeating the words, which of course got snickers from any who understood the situation, including the immigrant officers. The child, excited that she'd gotten attention, began singing those words, and soon the place was filled with laughter as the Japanese man glared at Donatello.

And that wasn't even the roughest part of the whole thing.

A bushy eyed man in a poorly fitting suit that was too loose around the shoulders and too tight around the middle sat behind a huge oak desk, papers stacked neatly before him. His entire desk screamed efficiency and orderliness, which seemed to contradict with his physical appearance. Even his hair was sticking up in the back, and his thick glasses were crooked. But his voice was deep and authoritative, so that even Mikey didn't snicker at his dress. A shiny nameplate read "Mr. Dean Smith."

"OK, I'm going to need birth certificates, medical records, any educational transcripts, shot records, family contacts, and previous occupations." He poised a pencil over one of the six duplicate papers. "One at a time, too, if you please. Starting with you, Mr..?"

"My name is Yoshi Hamato." Splinter provided politely, choosing that name in respect for his master.

"Mr. Hamato."

"Unfortunately, we do not have any of the appropriate paperwork."

Mr. Smith raised one bushy brow. "I see. And, may I ask, what happened to this paperwork?"

"The fire that drove us from our home land destroyed all our possessions, save for the clothes on our back."

"I see. And how is it, then, that you made it here in the first place?"

"The kindness of strangers is a powerful thing."

"I see." He liked saying that. It was a multi-purpose kind of expression. At the moment, he looked downright disbelieving of Splinter's story, but after a second sighed heavily and placed the papers, neatly, back into his drawer. "Somehow I think you're lying, Mr. Hamato, or at least not telling the whole truth. However, it is not our habit to turn anyone away unless given just cause." He looked up significantly at this, and then continued. "However, you six don't seem like the kind of people that would bring any real trouble, so let's get on with it. Though keep in mind, if you wish to become American citizens with all the benefits thereof, you must pledge your allegiance to the United States and break all former bonds to your homeland." When they nodded in acceptance of his terms, he dropped his ominous tone and continued as if he hadn't just threatened them. "So, we start from scratch."

What followed was too much red tape to begin to keep track of, and had Mr. Smith been a different, less efficient man, it would have been chaos. However, Mr. Smith was a man bred by the system who thrived on order and neatness, so the process was relatively painless. Over and over they had to repeat names and birthdays, which thankfully they'd sorted out before arriving at the office. Splinter was the oldest, obviously, then Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Mei Pieh.

"And your name is?"

And so the names they took were Yoshi Hamato, Leonardo Vinchi, Donatello David, Raphael Sanzi, Michelangelo Sistine, and Mei Pieh Chi (the boy's names were a joke, essentially, and if Mr. Smith realized the coincidence of the names, he did not elude to it).

After several hours of having to sit still, Michelangelo thought he would lose his mind, but just as he swore he was going to snap Mr. Smith had them each sign a paper and announced that they were free. He gave them various pages of information, including a number to the nearest G.E.D. testing facility, and then shook their hands.

"Mr. Hamato, I'm a very good judge of character, and I must say, you are a very fine man. I'm sure you'll do well for yourself here, as will your, er, children, I suppose."

"I consider them my children, though they are in no way related to one another or myself. I find that my heart goes out to those in need, and they have all needed me, at some point in their lives or another. And I agree that they shall do well for themselves. Thank you, Mr. Smith, for your kindness and your help."

And with that they were set free of the confines of the office, biding a carefully said farewell to the Japanese couple as they passed.

* * *

Leonardo considered them quite fortunate to have done so well. After all, things could have gone so much worse. Not being a racist himself, he wasstill aware ofthe fact that there were people who judged based on physical appearance. Perhaps being an outsider, and never looking even remotely like anyone other than his family, had been a blessing. For now, asa human man, Leonardo could look upon those he was sworn to protect and see only the people they were, not the color they were given at birth. Personally he thought it ridiculous, to judge based on something you could not control. It was akin to assuming that because one was born near the ocean that he knew how to swim. Simply because someone is born with a certain skin tone did not mean that they were genetically predisposed to violence, or even certain personality traits. 

But Leonardo was, above all, honest, and he admitted to himself that had they not been "white" they would have encountered so many more problems with the immigration office.

Looking around their rag-tag family as they sat in April O'Neil's living room, he absorbed their appearances. It seemed the gas had finished it's work on them and exited their systems, leaving them with the images that would reflect back at them in the mirror for presumably the rest of their lives.

Splinter, or rather Yoshi, looked to be about fifty-five, which was the age he assumed. His hair was not so much gray as it was white, straight, hanging just past his shoulders. The way his hair hung, the hue of it, gave him the look of a wise man. His eyes only added to the image, for what better color to represent wisdom than gray? His face was serene, with barely a wrinkle on his brow, but laugh lines around his eyes, and deep creases in his cheeks. One ear was deformed, the top half completely missing, the lobe and some of the side remaining, a scar he apparently would carry even in his human form. He wore it with seeming pride, for he had acquired it in attempting to avenge his beloved owner oh so many years ago. Yoshi was tall, lean and strong. He looked as if he could have easily been a biological father to Leonardo, since both were built the same, and even carried themselves similarly.

As for the rest of them, they were basically the same as they had been when they moved in. Mei's hair had finally stopped growing rapidly, and she wore it in a long French braid down her back. The strands resembled a silken tassel, the brunette accented by pale gold and deep red highlights. Raphael had grown a little taller, and if anything he'd bulked up even more, especially around his torso. He was very broad and powerful, and he wore shirts that fit so snugly they accented the hills and valleys of his upper body. Michelangelo remained the same, allowing his hair to hang to his shoulders, usually pulled back by an orange bandana. Dark fringes that gave him the image of a young, innocent child thickly lashed his wide hazel eyes. Donatello's chocolaty dark hair framed his face perfectly, and he brushed the chin length strands back behind his ears. His arms were almost as thick as Raphael's, though his torso wasn't as cut.

Leonardo had taken to keeping his hair short, cut above his ears, but the midnight black curls refused to do what he wanted. He wished he'd acquired straight hair, which in his opinion must've been a lot easier to "deal with." He didn't suppose he'd changed much, and was slightly amused at the fact that he was the tallest. The typical stereotype for the oldest, the "leader," is that they tower over those they watch out for. The fact that he'd gained the most height did not escape his notice.

In all they were an interesting,albiet odd looking,family. None of them appeared to be related in any manner, which was of course the truth. Though Leonardo wouldn't have assumed them to be foreign, either. Perhaps the eclectic variety of nationalities in New York City had somehow affected his ability to distinguish between physical backgrounds.

Having just finished dinner, the satisfied group sat in quiet companionship, relaxing after what had been a long and torturous time. And while they were not yet official citizens of the United States, they had been given permission (not to mention the appropriate paperwork and identification) to seek jobs and schooling. They had already called and arranged for each of them to take the G.E.D. tests, and April had even picked up an armload of pamphlets that advertised various schools that they could attend, should they desire. Having a regular prescription to a plethora of various newspapers (after all, was she not a woman of the media?), the classifieds were something that was readily available for perusal.

At the moment Raphael was reading a copy of said classifieds, mumbling about "experience needed" and "four-year degree preferred." Judging by the rather grim scowl that marred his handsome (at least, Leo supposed he was handsome; if Mei's occasional, yet appreciative glances could be used to judge his physical beauty, then he must hold some appeal over women) features, there wasn't much offered to former turtles with no real job experience and no real education.

April lounged in her chair, legs curled up beneath her, her hands cupping a steaming mug of tea.

"So what's this I hear about Mikey flirting with some sales clerk?"

"Oh really? Mikey, I thought I was the only woman in your life." Mei joked, watching as Michelangelo turned an interesting shade of pink.

"You should have seen him." Donatello snickered, looking up from the pamphlet he held. "He couldn't stop turning red. It was like watching the mercury in a thermostat rise and fall-one minute he's cool and calm, then next she shows up and he's burning up! Then she leaves and he's fine, and bam! She comes back, and it's Red City!"

Mikey glared at Donny and threw a pamphlet at him.

"So are you going to call her, Michelangelo? Or should we call you Casanova?" April teased.

"Of course I'm going to call her." He paused for a moment, and then looked at April seriously. "When should I call her?"

"Three days after you meet her. You don't seem too desperate, like you're a loser or something, but not so long that she thinks you're a jerk." April stated, nodding her head to affirm her answer.

"Okay." Pleased, Mikey sat back.

Raphael suddenly folded the paper ruthlessly, not to mention sloppily, and tossed it to the ground. He then crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the ceiling.

Mei looked up from one of the pamphlets that she'd been poking through. "What's wrong, Raphael?"

He harrumphed before speaking, his voice gruff. Of all of them, he had the deepest, most booming voice, one that fit his physique and personality quite well. He still had that slight accent, one that portrayed his attitude nicely. "There isn't anythin' available unless you got experience. How can you get experienced if no one'll hire you without it?"

Mei smiled gently, her eyes softening before she seemed to realize what she must look like and regained her composure. Her voice took on the familiar clip that she'd had when first coming to America, but had lost in the first six months in their company.

"Well, if you go to school they offer internships and job shadowing, which is considered by most prospective employers as adequate experience. I think that perhaps they worry about hiring someone that has not been put into a position where they must take orders and take their place in the proverbial ladder of power. It might not necessarily be a specific skill they want you to have so much as a general idea of what it's like in a professional environment." She paused and considered for a moment before continuing. "Perhaps a job that is normally taken by teenagers would be appropriate to begin with. If nothing else, it will show an employer that you can hold down a job and get along with others." Toward the end of this statement she could not hide her smile, for she had been with them long enough to know that Raphael's people skills were, to say the least, lacking. "Besides, we're only eighteen and nineteen; the only job we're really going to be able to get is a minimum wage one."

"Flipping burgers and taking orders." Donatello put in, dropping one pamphlet and grabbing another. "Resign yourself, and start working on those people skills, Raph."

"Would you like fries with that?" Mikey joked.

"In your case I think it would be more like 'What topping would you like on that large pizza?'" Donatello quipped, earning a snicker from Leonardo. Mikey, however, got a thoughtful look on his face (which was an unusual expression for him; the others found it surprising that his features even remembered how to make that particular look).

"Now that's not a bad idea." He said seriously, grabbing Raphael's discarded classifieds.

"Remember that you're going to need to find something in this general area."

All of them looked up at the same time, curiosity etched on each face.

"Why?" Mikey finally asked.

April gave him an odd look, as if she thought the answer obvious. "Because I'm not going to be able to drive you all around town every day. I work odd hours, and I can't tell you if I'm going to be free to drive you to work."

Donatello pulled his eyebrows together, arching one higher than the other. "And that's a problem because..?"

"Well, how else are you going to get to work?"

"Um, walk? Catch a bus? Skateboard? Take a taxi?" Donny suggested.

"Oh." With that April sat back in her La-Z-Boy and relaxed. For an unknown reason she felt very protective over this group. Perhaps not Splinter so much as the others. Part of her held a motherly affection over them, finding herself concerned for their welfare. After all, they'd spent their entire lives relatively sheltered from the cruelties of the world. Shredder, the Foot, even that Dragon guy had all been more of a supernatural evil. They'd lived without knowing racism, prejudices, unexplained hatred, antagonism, or brutal death. Granted, when Shredder had kidnapped Splinter, the boys had mourned for the loss of their beloved master, but April knew that they'd never really thought he'd been killed. The world was a harsh place to those that didn't have the strength to fight back. While April knew they had that strength, she worried that they'd be hurt before realizing they had it. She felt the need to protect them and knew that she couldn't. For if she continued to hold the umbrella over their heads, then they'd never learn to hold it themselves.

"April, what's wrong?"

If there was anything April had learned since Mei Pieh Chi had joined their clan, it was that the female was very perceptive. Not perceptive like every female was; no, it was as if Mei was not only in tune with herself, but with everyone around her, and could sense the wrongness of something as if she herself felt it. April supposed it was an effect of her Shin obi training, only made more powerful because she was a woman.

"What? Oh, nothing. Just thinking. I've got a big assignment that I've got to start tomorrow, and I'm wondering what angle I should take on it." April knew she shouldn't lie to them, and guessed that Mei might be able to sense her fib, but perhaps she overestimated the girl, for she dropped the subject after that. If the boys knew how far and how deep her power ran, they'd never shared that particular information with April. Not that she'd ever asked or really felt such an interest in it. Perhaps she should research this Shin obi training. If there was one thing April did not like, it was not fully understanding something.

They discussed taking the G.E.D. and what they were going to do afterwards. There was no doubt that they were going to need to get jobs, though they still wanted to attend college. Donatello was of course interested in the Science Institute, having read about it in one of the pamphlets April had placed on the coffee table.

"They've also got various student loan programs, and co-op programs as well. Which means I could go to school and then work at a job that pertains to my major and get paid for it."

"They offer tuition assistance to former ninja turtles?" Raphael asked sarcastically, still quietly sulking. He was not pleased by the prospective employment in the area, since handling food was not something he was extremely interested in. Though if he thought about it, he wasn't entirely certain what he wanted to do. That train of thought sent him down another path, one that opened doors to various possibilities, most of them requiring schooling. Again, not something he was looking forward to. Books and notes and tests would no doubt be Donny's strong point. Leo too, probably. He was disciplined enough to study and devote himself to something. Upon thinking this Raphael resolved to dedicate himself to whatever he decided to study and to excel at it. He was not about to be outdone by Leonardo.

Where the rivalry between the two of them had come from is unknown. It was most likely a manifestation of their two very different personalities clashing together. Leonardo was born to lead and very dedicated. He'd always been good at what he'd done, and had, lately, been more patient with all of them. This patience and talent made him an ideal leader, and Mikey and Donny felt no need to challenge him or his ideas. Had Raphael been slightly different, he wouldn't have either. Privately he trusted Leo's judgment and knew he'd never deliberately put them in danger. However, Raphael was just too damn stubborn and pugnacious to let anything slide. He felt the need to confront Leo on everything, to pick apart his ideas and find any flaw in them. The fact that Leo usually came out on top did not pass his observation, and because of this Raphael felt at odds with him.Though, Leo would never pick a fight with him again. Not after Raphael's near death experience. Leonardo had, of course, blamed himself for the entire thing, finding no fault in Raphael, and had since avoided confrontation with him unless severely provoked. Which Raphael was good at doing.

Leonardo, meanwhile, was discussing various majors with Mei, who was interested in psychology and was thinking about getting her M.D.

"I thought you could read people's minds, Mei. Why would you want to be a psychologist? Wouldn't that take all the fun out of it?" Michelangelo asked, showing that he was paying attention despite the paper he was reading.

Mei smiled, rolling her eyes. "I don't read minds, Michelangelo. I suppose you could say I sense things. And I can influence people, to move, to start a fight, to end a fight. But that only works if I'm near them, and is most effective when I'm touching them. But read minds? No, that is something I'll never be able to do. The mind is too complex, too vast, to try and perform such a feat. But to study psychology, to understand why people do things, what motivates them, why they turn into the people they are, is something that will provide insight into the mind. The only real insight I'm capable of." She seemed troubled by something, for she stopped suddenly, as if she were going to continue but had changed her mind abruptly and merely sat back in her seat, an odd expression on her face.

Splinter would have asked her what was wrong, but after a second decided to wait until he could speak to her alone. Raising such a question in front of a large group would no doubt make her uncomfortable. After all, if it were something that she would tell all of them, she would have said it. Something had made her pause, reconsider what she'd been about to say and then elect to disregard the comment. Hopefully she would be able to open up to him, as a mentor and friend. Splinter would readily admit to himself that the boys could be rather immature, though as they aged they became more considerate of the female and her "sensitivities."

Splinter nodded to himself and leaned back on the couch, returning to the casual conversation as the four men and two women debated about various concerns. As the time went by, however, the group became weary and soon retired for the evening.

* * *

Across town, below the crowded bustle of the New York City streets... 

"_Where are they!_"

The mighty bellow rang forth and echoed off the damp stone walls, causing all present and within a two-mile radius to pause and quiver in fear. The voice was many things; terrifying, ruthless, and powerful, but most of all it was angry. And the person that voice belonged to was not one that you ever wanted angry. When he was angry, people-usually his minions-got hurt. Needless to say, this tone did not bode well for all present.

As if to reiterate this well-known fact, the Dragon Lord grabbed at the nearest, hapless soul and snapped his neck, tossing him to the ground in a dismissive manner, his anger nowhere near satisfied.

"You told me, oh small one, that this is their habitat. You promised to deliver to me the five turtles and their rat friend. I hate being lied to, and it seems to me that you have lied. Unfortunately, it will be the last thing you ever do."

Had it not been for his lifetime of training that had developed his agility and speed, the young man behind the ninja mask might have joined the dragon warrior on the ground. As it was, it was only his quickness that saved his neck, for the moment.

He spoke quickly, distancing himself from the much bigger Dragon Lord, secretly intimidated but refusing to let his fear show. He knew that showing fear would be enough of a foothold for his enemy to kill him. Maki Seiya had survived the downfall of the Foot once Master Shredder had lost his mind; he was determined he would survive this Dragon Lord as well.

"This is the last known residence of the turtles. If they are not here it is because they suspected we would find them. But do not fear; so long as my comrades and I live, we will hunt down the turtles. We owe them for what they did to our master."

"While that's all well and good, why should I let you live? It's obvious that there are enough of you to find them for me. And should you fail, I can always send my warriors to complete the mission. Your life is insignificant."

Seiya threw his head back and laughed. "You fool."

"What?" The Dragon Lord lunged and Seiya managed to dodge, escaping the scaly clutches by the skin of his teeth.

"You forget that I am the only link the remaining members of the Foot have with you and your mission. Kill me, and the Foot will hunt the turtles down and destroy them, which I'm sure is not in your best interest."

The Dragon Lord stared hard at the ninja, considering his words carefully. He'd never been one to ally himself with anyone, having always been capable of handling every enemy and situation that presented itself. He was powerful, he knew, but perhaps this ninja and his clan would prove useful. After all, they had been battling the turtles longer and had a better understanding of them. If nothing else, the Foot would know any possible weaknesses. The Dragon Lord would keep them around long enough to learn all he could, and then he would dispose of them. He could not have anyone running around, threatening to ruin his plans or plotting to overthrow him.

He smiled, baring gleaming, elongated fangs. "Very well, ninja, you make your point and prove your usefulness. We will offer protection and numbers to you and your comrades, and in exchange you will bring us the turtles, unharmed and in one piece."

Seiya nodded, eyes flashing. "You have yourself a deal, Dragon Lord."

* * *

_To Be Continued_


	4. Job Hunting is for NonMutants

Chapter Four : "Job Hunting is for Non-Mutants" 

Author's Notes: Okay, this one I'm not going to edit a whole lot, maybe make a few changes here and there, but for the most part it'll stay the same. Also, I'm happy to report that I have a means to scan pictures onto my computer, which means, tada! I can draw pictures and upload them to the internet, so that's a project I can undertake (I've already finished one, yay!). I'll fill you all in on an address as soon as they're done. Now, let's see what our favorite Turtles are up to today.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, nonono!" Michelangelo had had it, and he was determined to get his point across, to his companions and anyone within a five mile radius.

"Quite whining and keep up." Raph was irritable, and didn't care if anyone knew or not. Of course, with Raphael, you always know when he is irritated, annoyed, or tired. And right now he happened to be all three, with Mikey's whining only grating on him more. If Mikey had been more perceptive, or perhaps even paying attention, he would have noticed said mood and tried to contain his complaints. However, Mikey was never extremely perceptive, and at this point in the day far from caring how anyone felt except himself. More specifically, his feet.

"I refuse to walk any further. My feet are killing me." With that he stopped dead in his tracks, aching feet firmly planted on the surprisingly clean sidewalk. He ignored the flow of people as they ignored him, the pedestrians merely diverting around him like a stream past a rock. Raph and the others stopped a few paces ahead of him, turning to try and spot their companion through the slew of faces. It was impossible; though they couldn't have been more than five feet away from one another, there were simply too many people on the sidewalk. It seemed the constant plague of New York City. People were everywhere, all the time, and there seemed to be a never-ending supply of them. They'd been up since sunrise, throwing themselves into the mayhem of the city to hunt down jobs, and as the day progressed they'd stopped seeing individual people. Now all they saw as they looked into the crowd was blurred faces without features; bodies that melded into one another to form one seamless, ever-changing entity that took up every available inch of the sidewalk. Trying to discern one person in the crowd was the search for the proverbial needle in the haystack.

"Mikey!" _Shit._ Raph thought, standing on tiptoe in an attempt to get a better view of the surrounding area. Passing females turned to give his bulging calves appreciative looks, allowing their eyes to travel upward to admire the entire physique. Raph didn't notice, and probably wouldn't have cared if he had. Privately he was proud of the imposing physique he'd been given.Just this morning hehad stood in the bathroom for unneeded extra moments to strike ridiculous poses in the mirror, pleased at the size of the flexed muscles. However, at the moment he was not interested in female attention, and was honest enough with himself to know that in this mood he was not pleasant company. Not a good first impression for a potential date.

"Oh, this is not what we need." Donatello muttered, stumbling as a passer-by shoved past him. He caught his balance in no time and felt slightly annoyed, though at this point what could he do? As was his nature he didn't pursue a fight, merely concentrated on not getting separated from the others by theonslaught of the crowd. Donny was a born and bred, fully trained Ninja, and was used to disappearing into a crowd, vanishing into the night. Not fighting against it in an effort to remain seen. It went against his nature, and at the moment he was having trouble fighting that nature. "Where did he go?"

"Dudes! Where are you?" A shout rose over the normalnoise of the sidewalk: the buzzof conversations, click of shoes against concrete, and rustle of clothing against clothing. A shout that was distinctly Mikey's.

"Where are you, Mikey?" Leonardo was craning his neck and trying to elongate his already long frame in his effort to seek out his brother. Worry coursed through him, for he knew that the longer they were separated, the more likely they were to lose one another. Even now, he knew they'd traveled further away from him then when they'd initially stopped, compensating for the crowd, stepping back to allow someone past and so on. Though they'd been raised in the sewers beneath this city, their knowledge of the streets above was limited. At the moment they were in a fairly unfamiliar territory that would only seem all the more alien to Mikey without the comfort of their company. It was never fun to be alone and lost; being lost as a group was slightly more entertaining.

"Dudes, I'm just gonna duck in this place right here." Mikey's voice was barely audible now, either because the distance between him and the group was too great, or because the roar of the streets had increased.

"Where's here?" Leo yelled, drawing annoyed glances from people around him. Raphael glared back at them, and most diverted their eyes under such a look. Some held his gaze longer, ostentatious fellows who worked in tall buildings behind large mahogany desks with secretaries and intra-office affairs. Had Raphael had more time (not to mention maneuverable room) he might have gone after them. Though he was not one to pick fights under normal circumstances (and never would have if Splinter had been present) getting up with the roosters, barely eating, and hiking around most of New York City for the majority of the day had finished off all his wires.What was left was a raw, annoyed, and ready to brawl Raphael. Completely against his character, but current conditions had left them all acting odd.

"Uh, Pete's Pizza Pronto!" Mikey's voice answered.

"Figures. Well, at least it'll give us a chance ta eat. Maybe that'll shut him up." Raphael pushed forward, swimming upstream as they fought the current and struggled to spot the place Mikey had referred to.

They didn't have long to look, and were relieved to stumble into the cool, darkly hip pizzeria. One of those privately owned shops that struggled to stay alive against the franchises; this place was small, secluded, and comfortable. The tables were tall and round, stainless steel and gleaming, seating a maximum of three. The stools were upholstered in a swirling pattern of reds, and each table had white paper as a tablecloth, with a cup of crayons in the center to allow for doodling. The floor was bare, concrete gray, with what look like painted autographs of various celebrities that had graced the pizzeria with their presence. The walls were painted in reds to match the chairs, with what looked like sponge wall treatments in checkered patterns. On the right hand wall in a neat scrawl was painted the store's menu in bold silver, complete with prices and artist renditions of steaming pizzas. To the back was a single set of double doors, also steel, presumably behind which was the kitchen. A jukebox stood against the window that opened up into the streets of New York, and was currently blaring "Run Around Sue" by Dion and the Belmonts. A few tasteful pieces of artwork from local artists decorated the walls, but for the most part the room screamed simplicity. Only two other couples were there.A man and woman in their late forties pleasantly conversed over what looked like a veggie pie. Near the jukebox two woman with five o'clock shadowsslurped down their sodas in unladylike fashion and giggled over an open magazine.

Mikey sat at a table close to the window but across the room from the jukebox, one open-toe brown sandal lying forsaken on the ground as he massaged his arch, groaning in pain. He barely noticed as Donatello and Leonardo sat down beside him, Raphael dragging another table over so that he and Mei didn't feel left out. Not that he would have minded. If given the choice at this point, he would have preferred Mei's quiet, serene companionship to that of Mikey's loud company. For the moment, at least.

"Dudes, I think we should call it a day. We've been out since...since..." He looked at Donny for help.

"Six-thirty this morning."

"Right, six-thirty, and no luck. We either don't have enough experience to be considered, or have gotten there too late and the position's been taken. Today just ain't our day." Mikey sighed and released his foot, slipping it halfway into his shoe. "I'm tired, I'm not exactly inspired, and am in no way enthusiastic. In other words, I've been hauling ass since two, let's go home."

Leo was about to comment when the fresh faced waitress appeared, grabbing a green crayon from Raph's cup and scribbling her name first in front of him, then beside Donny on his table.

"Hey. My name's Amelia, and what can I get you to drink?" She said it in a rush, with a thick Southern accent, her pen poised over her pad in anticipation.

"Oh, uh..." Mikey leaned to one side in order to see around Donny, then ordered a Big Papa Pete size pizza with extra cheese, extra pepperoni, sausage, green peppers, ham, and the like.

"But no anchovies. Fish belong in the sea, not on my pizza." He tried to look stern but it was akin to a fluffy cocker spaniel puppy trying to look ferocious. It just didn't work.

"Gotcha doll." She was about to walk away when Leo suddenly remembered refreshments, and ordered a pitcher of soda and five glasses.

"Come on, Mikey, you can't just give up like that..." Leo started once Amelia had disappeared behind the stainless double doors.

"I'm with Mikey on this one." Donny stretched, tossing a wave of chocolaty dark hair out of matching eyes. "I mean, today's been a waste, and it's going to take us an hour to get home on foot, so if we want to get there before dark, or worse, rush hour, we should leave soon."

"But not before food." Mikey interjected as Amelia came back bearing a pitcher brimming with soda and fizz, setting it at the center of Mikey's table next to the crayon cup. She handedeach of them a glass filled with ice.The girlsmiled pleasantly at each, shamelessly admiring them in turn. One could hardly blame her.

"Oh my Gawd, is that your natural color?" Amelia either hadn't noticed Michelangelo's hair the first go round, or had decided that since there was next to no one in the shop that she could spend some extra time flirting. After all, she lived on tips, and found that stroking a man's ego only increased the percentage.

If only she'd known that Leonardo was holding the cash.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Mikey reached up and grabbed a lock of his pale hair, the tresses silky and pliant beneath his callused fingers. "Yep. All natural, you could say." He grinned back at her, the pain in his feet forgotten as he flirted right back at her.

Mei stifled her smile as she watched the two flirt back and forth for a solid five minutes, Amelia reaching out and running a hand through Mikey's shoulder length locks, gushing about how soft it was and what kind of conditioner did he use? Donatello rolled his eyes and shot Leo a look, though the dark haired man merely arched an eyebrow.

"Well ain'the the Casanova." Raph muttered, arms crossed over his chest. Mei heard and giggled, hiding it behind her glass.

"So, what's your name?" Amelia tossed her bottle blonde ponytail over her shoulder and smiled at Mikey, baring even, pearly whites.

"Michelangelo."

"Get out! Like that painter guy?"

Donny snorted his amusement, and Leo was by now struggling to keep a straight face.

Mikey shot Donny a look then nodded to Amelia. "Yeah, like the painter guy. But you can call me Mikey."

"Well, Mikey, why don't I go back and check on your pizza?" Amelia backed away slowly, maintaining eye contact until she bumped into the table behind her, then giggled and turned for the kitchen.

"Dude, she's hot."

"Dude, she's, like, sixteen." Donny waved his hands in front of Mikey's love struck face. "Besides, what about Rebecca? And would you please tell me how on earth you get these women to go for you? I mean, what is it about you?"

"Blondes have more fun." Mikey said simply. "And I've got a date with Rebecca this Saturday. She was hot too. But Amelia is equally hot."

"One word, Mike. Illegal."

"It's only illegal if you get caught." Mikey informed Leo jokingly, but truthfully had no interest in seeking out Amelia as a potential date. What they had was playful banter between a customer and a waitress, and no doubt had she been older Mikey would have pursued her. However, of all the things Mikey was-a loveable prankster with a heart the size of Alaska and a goofy streak to match-he was not a pedophile. Nor was he interested in becoming one, especially not with someone like Rebecca already lined up. No, Mikey wasn't really interested in Amelia, but enjoyed the practice she provided in the careful art of flirting. He'd already had almost four years of practice with April, and recent practice with Mei, but looked for any opportunity to expand on his skills.

Michelangelo was on the road to becoming a world-class Casanova, complete with endearing smiles, gorgeous Fabio-like hair, and a deceptively innocent hazel gaze. Women would no doubt go wild for him, and heaven save his soul from the imminent throes that would pursue him.

But right now all he was concerned with was his pie, and with the absence of Amelia he was growing more and more restless.

"It don't take this long to make a pizza." Raphael noted, turning in his seat to stare at the doors leading to the kitchen, as if by the sheer power of his will he could conjure up their waitress with a steaming pizza balanced on her fingers.

Leo was about to comment about patience being a virtue when there was a crash in the kitchen followed by language that was never appropriate but nevertheless more interesting to use.

"Now listen here, Guido, you aren't the only person in New York that can toss a pizza, and you'd do well to remember that!"

"I refuse to work under these conditions! Either you pay me more or I walk, and we'll see how easy it is for you to replace me, especially with the dinner rush right around the corner!"

"I would sooner shut the store down then pay more to put up with your attitude! You should be paying me for the privilege of working here!"

A man burst through the doors of the kitchen, face bright red in anger. He yanked off his hair net, tossing it on the ground followed closely by his flour-covered apron. Another man followed, this one shorter but by no means less intimidating; his thick black moustache and broad shoulders gave him an imposing look, combined with the hue of red that dominated his features from the neck up, seeming brighter at the top of his head where the hair refused to grow.

"Privilege? What privilege? You mean working in front of a hot oven all day while bitchy waitresses come in and out shouting orders as if they were God's gift to a pizza parlor, whiny customers that think I'm some friggin' pizza machine, slaving away for a man that has no regard for how hard I work?" The man-Guido, presumably-was practically spiting his words, while the she-men watched with fascinated interest and the elderly couple tried to pretend they didn't notice the great ruckus being thrown in the middle of the room. "No, screw you, Pete. Find some other monkey to throw your pies. I'm out of here." With that he turned and marched out the door, disappearing into the throng of passer-bys.

"Yeah, well, don't expect a good reference, you ingrate!" Pete's comeback was not better-late-than-never, but seemed to appease the older man, at least for a moment. Then the shock of what had just happened seemed to settle in and a look of panic crossed over his face.

"I take it this means it's going to be a little longer on the food." Donny said blandly. Raph snorted and rested his elbows against the paper-covered table, reaching for a red crayon and beginning to doodle on the tablecloth.

"No way, man, I'm too hungry to wait. I'll make it myself." With that Mikey stood and approached Pete, who had turned and begun walking back toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Pete." Michelangelo stopped the owner with a hand on his shoulder. The shorter man turned and glanced at Mikey wearily, as if he didn't have the energy to deal with a complaining customer so soon after his head pizza man had walked out.

"Sir, I'm sorry about the ordeal, and if you don't mind waiting for a few more minutes I'll make sure your pie gets to you."

"Don't worry about it Pete. In fact, I was just gonna offer to go back and make it myself. Save you the hassle. After all, you've got enough of a problem finding someone to fill in for Guido there before the dinner rush." Mikey said it with all seriousness, clearly not aware of the policies every restaurant (at least every law-abiding restaurant) had about customers going into the kitchen. Pete, however, seemed surprised at Mikey's offer, if not slightly intrigued.

"You think you know about pizza making, do you?" Pete asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking Michelangelo up and down.

"Dude, if anyone knows about pizza, it's me. It was my first word. I've had pizza every day for as long as I can remember. Pizza from every place that delivers, with every imaginable topping. Except anchovies. Hate anchovies." Here Mikey inserted an amusing, albeit unintentional, grimace of disgust."I'm a pizza connoisseur. Anything you can ever know about pizza, I know. And that ain't bragging."

"Oh really?" Pete grinned from beneath his bushy 'stache, definitely intrigued with Mikey. "Tell me, then, son, which do you prefer-canned tomato sauce, or fresh tomatoes?" He pronounced it "toe-matt-toe," and seemed interested in Mikey's answer.

"Fresh tomatoes, cut into eighths and mashed and pasted by hand. To me, it has more texture, and a more tomato-y taste. Canned stuff will do in a pinch, but given the choices it's fresh, no less."

"What about onions on a pizza?"

"Onions are good, but only if you sauté them first, otherwise theylose flavor."

Pete seemed pleased with his answers and put an arm around Mikey's shoulders, whispering with him conspiratorially for a few moments before patting him on the back, shaking his hand, and entering the kitchen. Mikey turned to his companions and gave them an innocent enough grin, but they were not to be swayed. They knew he was up to something, and before they could even ask his excitement forced the words out of him.

"Pete's gonna let me come in tomorrow, and if he likes what I do then I've got the job!"

Silence from the peanut gallery, until finally Donny was able to voice the thought they all shared.

"Why does he get all the luck?"

* * *

_To be Continued_


	5. Kids Will Be Kids

Chapter Five : "Kids Will Be Kids"

Author's Notes: Yes, I know. It's been a while. But I'm back! And the good news is...another chapter! Insert standard disclaimers here, 'cause I don't own these guys. Wish I did...

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Mikey got the job. Was there any doubt? If you want a man who knows pizza, it's Mikey. He may have once been a turtle, but he's ingested more pizza than all of Italy combined. His pure and true, unwavering love for pizza in all shapes and sizes (except for anchovies) pretty much guaranteed him the job.By the time his date rolled around with Rebecca, he had his own cash to take her out on (albeit it was an advance, but it was still his money).

Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Mei, Splinter, and April all watched in continued amazement as Mikey fussed over his clothing. Despite appearances, he was not a bum. He spent an hour in the bathroom, grooming to ensure he didn't reek of pizza (which was not necessarily a bad smell, but he supposed it was the principle of the matter).He then panicked because he now smelled like April's passionflower shampoo and conditioner as well as her tangerine-scented soap. Thisprovided the boys with a great deal of laughter, which Mikey took in stride once Donatello offered him some cologne he'd thought to pick up when they'd gone shopping. Of course, it couldn't entirely mask the scent of passionflower/tangerine, and basically turned it into passionflower/tangerine/Alpine-y freshness. Basically he smelled like he'd been in a flower field eating a small orange and then climbed a tree. But clean.

He then debated on hairstyles—down and casual? Pulled back and hip? Down and gelled? Up and gelled? Teased into that croppy, shaggy look that seemed to be going around? If he was going for the popular look, how about that crazy spiky do that forced one's hair (thanks to copious amounts of gel, mousse, and prayer) into a point? Blow dried straight or air-dried wavy? Bandana? Or no? Mikey had never fully appreciated the female dilemma that was date-preparation, but he was living in their world now, and not enjoying it one bit.

He was practically in tears of frustration when Mei entered the bathroom and shut the door. Curious, Leo, Donny, and Raph pressed their ears to the wooden barrier. The sounds that ensued none could describe—there were clicks, whirrs, yanks, the cry of a hair drier, and once Donny swore he heard a_vroom_ similar to the noise the 51st Avenue bus made. When they emerged, however, Mei threw her arms out extravagantly, showing off her creation.

Mikey struck a suave pose, grinning in a confident manner that drew ones attention to his perfectly white teeth. His hair, once a hapless, as-it-will style, was now dry, straight with just a bit of wave around his cheekbones to soften their sharpness. It fell delicately to his shoulders, brushing against a charcoal gray collared short sleeved shirt, tucked neatly into perfectly pressed black slacks with clunky black combat boots—after all, it was still Mikey.

Donny looked appropriately impressed. "Mikey. You look...neat."

"Clean." Leo offered, nodding.

"Human." Raphael muttered, scowling at his shirt. "I see you borrowed my shirt."

Mikey blushed sheepishly. "Sorry, dude. I meant to ask. It's all right?"

Raphael shrugged, his expression losing its severity. "Sure. Just remember—any pizza stains and you owe me a new shirt."

"Deal. Though we're not going out for pizza."

There was a collective gasp.

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. "We're going to a movie, and then _maybe_ we'll eat afterwards. In which case I'll take her to get Chinese. She mentioned she liked it, and that she knew of a good restaurant near the movie theater."

"You could bring her back here and I could cook for you. I guarantee my Chinese is better than any restaurant's." Mei offered, thinking to save Mikey some of his precious cash.

"Now you know I love your cooking, Mei, but there's _no way_ that I'm bringing her here on our first date. How weird would that look to her, me living with four guys and two girls? But maybe later." He added to avoid hurting the girl's feelings. Mei shrugged it off.

"You have enough money, Mikey?" April asked from her perch on her chair.

"Yep. Pete liked my technique so much he said he'd give me an advance...though it's just this once."

"You're better off than the rest of us." Donny muttered darkly, still upset that they hadn't managed to secure jobs yet.

"Just remember not too stay out too late tonight, Mike. We have to be up and at the community college early to take the G.E.D. I doubt a late night will help your test score." Leo warned, very much looking the role of elder brother.

Mikey grinned as he headed for the door. "Come on, Leo. Give me a little credit. I'll be in _way_ before we have to leave." With that and a wave he left to pick up Rebecca.

Raphael sighed and plopped onto the couch, privately pouting. "I'm bored."

"You could train." Splinter suggested, smiling a bit as he made the suggestion.

The reply he received was a snort. "We trained this morning on April's roof."

"Is that what woke me up at five this morning?" April looked up from her laptop screen, the computer balanced in her lap as she read over her memo to her boss about a story idea.

Mei nodded, perching next to Raphael on the arm of the couch. "We're sorry if we disturbed you."

Donny looked thoughtful. "Don't you get up at 5:30 to get ready for work?"

"You'd be surprised how essential that half an hour is to us working stiffs." April grinned then seemed to think of something, digging into her back pocket. "Splinter, I meant to give this to you. I recently did a story about this old man and his dojo, about how he was helping to keep kids off the streets and instilling values in an increasingly moral less society. Anyway,he said he owed me a favor, so I suggested that a friend of mine might be interested in working there. This is his address. He said to come in tomorrow so the two of you could talk face to face."

Splinter nodded his thanks, looking down at the paper. "Thank you, April. I appreciate all you have done for us. I promise that as soon as we are all financially secure we will be out of your hair."

April waved away his promise. "Truthfully I like having you around. It's nice to know you all are here. It feels more like a home and less like a space I pay a mortgage on."

Donny was pacing nervously, an act that was quickly grating on Raphael's nerves. Finally the red head snapped, standing. "I gotta get outta here. Go for a walk."

Mei stood too. "Would you like company?"

Raphael looked shocked at her offer and was about to answer when she added, "I think we could all use a bit of exercise."

Raphael felt something in him sink and was curious at the reaction. Did he want to spend time alone with Mei? When did this happen? He only nodded, grabbing his sneakers and tugging them on. Leo and Donny joined him at the entrance as Mei quickly grabbed a thin sweater, tugging it over her tank top. As a group they exited, clambering down the steel steps. Once their feet hit the concrete they fell into a mild jog, led by Leonardo, toward the park.

The neighborhood April lived in was truly nice, by New York City standards. The streets were clean and devoid of thelitter that resided on most New York sidewalks, and the buildings were all in good condition. It was the kind of housing important people in the media and business sector lived in, with security guards protecting the compound as if it were a military prison.

The four of them, though never truly relaxed due to their training, felt at ease. The evening was cool, the sun just setting below the horizon, the air crisp and clear. The ground beneath their feet was sure, and once they reached the modest park they were assailed with the scent of leaf and grass. Here they found the joggers trail and at Leonardo's cue began to sprint. In this he was superior, for his legs were longer than the others and could carry him further—it had nothing to do with health. Each had stamina beyond most humans, and as a benefit of their training they were in top physical condition.

Mei enjoyed sprinting, urging her legs to carry her faster and faster, further. She paced Raphael, her stride matching his own, braid wiping behind her and snapping in the wind. She smiled, increasing her pace and catching up with Leonardo, needing more power behind her step to catch him and having to work harder to match his stride. He grinned down at her, then began to slow. They did two more laps as they slowed; they ended at the jogging pace they'd started at. Donny was shaking his legs out, stretching his hamstrings and quads as they circled in place. Raphael stopped and bent double to stretch the back of his knees, wrapping his powerful arms around his thighs and touching his forehead to his legs. The stretch felt good. Mei balanced against a tree and grabbed her ankle, pulling her left quad out of a knot. Leo sat, leaning forward toward onefoot with the other tucked under and beside him to deepen the extension of his muscles.

Mei rolled her shoulders back and, sighing, stared up at the sky. The city lights were so bright that you couldn't see more than one or two stars. What you could see, however, was a neon utopia of signs declaring anything from _Open_ to names of clubs that would probably not last through the year. Mei missed the stars. Before she'd moved to America from her small village, they'd been clear, strong points of light at night, winking their mysteries down at the people. She used to stare at them to allow her mind to clear, simply admiring their beauty. Now, however, they were masked by the artificial lights of the city.

Donny was speaking energetically to Leo about the program he wanted to take part in at the technical college in the area, a speech he'd given to everyone at least twice so far. He couldn't mask his excitement over the prospect of working with real scientific minds and tools, getting his hands on new books just full ofunfamiliar theories and ideas. Leo, of course, listened patiently, though Mei wondered if he really heard Donny's words. He might just be really good at pretending. Considering how often Donny had launched into this particular oration they were all getting pretty good at knowing when to nod and make conversation-type noises.

Raphael stopped stretching and looked out into the city, his manner still restless. Mei followed his gaze.

"I feel like doin' somethin'. I think if I spend one more night sittin' in April's living room lookin' at the classifieds I'll lose my mind." He ran a hand over his crop of hair, as if trying to scratch his palm with the short red locks.

Mei nodded. "We've been good for a week. I think we deserve some down time." She looked over to Leo and Donny, who had stopped at her words. "What about it, boys? What say we find out what New York City, above ground, has to offer?"

Donny's eyes lit up and Leo grinned. In the past week he hadn't done much of that—Mei could tell that this new life of theirs gave him cause for more worry over the rest of them. She knew that he, probably even more than Raphael, would benefit from a night out.

Donny ended up leading the way. They left the little park near April's building, walking birskly as they passed the tall Goliath structures where business types spent the majority of their week. At this time of night there were few people coming in and out of the office buildings but there were lights still on in several offices, casting weak squares of yellow on the concrete streets and sidewalks below. An occasional lemon-colored cab swept past at moderate speed, just waiting for a hand to shoot out so that the driver could make some money.

The rounded a corner, crossed several streets, and ended up on a block that stretched far into the distance. This was a happening kind of street, with restaurants lining the concrete. Little tables sat under high-posted lights, umbrellas shut tight as patrons laughed and talked over the final meal of the day. The scent of different cuisines and spices intermingled with the leftover heat of the day; spicy Cajun, exotic Greek, familiar Italian and Chinese, and an occasional waif from bits of food served in the barest of portions for the highest of prices. Further down, however, these restaurants were replaced by trendier bars with jukebox or live music spilling into the streets along with some of its patrons, outside to quickly inhale a cigarette before returning to the fray. Donatello stopped occasionally outside some of these spots, glancing over little signs that proclaimed "Live Music!" "Local Band!" "Buy One Drink, Get Another ½ Off!" and the like. At each one he would read, listen, and move on. They weren't exactly sure what he was looking for specifically, but figured he'd eventually stop so they could sit down. Leo still carried around some of the money April had given them, though he was hesitant to use it. He and Splinter had already agreed to keep track of all they spent so that they could pay her back once they secured employment.

Donny finally stopped outside a basement bar with music drifting up to the street level. Whatever song they were playing, it had a heavy, driving beat that he seemed to enjoy, for he turned around and arched a pointed eyebrow at them.

Raphael shrugged, eager to get inside and relax. Leo read the sign: "Girl's Night! Ladies Admitted Free, Men Cover 10." Leonardo nodded and pulled out three bills, handing them to the rather thick bouncer.

"I.D.?" He asked, looking them over curiously.

They each pulled out the card they'd received at the immigration office—an alien registration card with a picture, their names and ages and other information.

He looked over each and stamped the backs of their left hand. The shape of the stamp was a circle with a criss-crossing pattern inside—it almost looked like the shell on a turtle.

Once inside it became apparent to anyone who dared risk a look that Donatello was a dancing machine. He immediately found a place on the dance floor and swayed to the beat, initially doing moves that were a little outdated.Upon observing those around him, however, hebegan to mimic more recent dance styles. Mei giggled at first and then went out to join him as a quick song started, spinning and swaying in front of him. The two, with their brunette hair (though Donny's was much darker) and complementary frames looked good dancing together. Donny was slightly taller and broader than Mei, whose slim frame accented hiswide shoulders.

Abruptly the music changed to something more primal; it seemed a requirement that the dancing partners move more suggestively with one another. Mei followed the beat with her hips, pressing against Donatello's side and laughing as she did so to ensure he didn't take the action in the wrong way. Donatello, however, was blushing rather deeply though the crimson tinted lights over the dance floor hid it from everyone. He spun her away to alleviate his embarrassment and mentally scolded himself for even entertaining such thoughts about a girl he'd come to know as a friend and intellectual equal.

If Mei sensed his discomfort she was nice enough not to show it, nor let on that she might have. Once the song was over she dodged through the pressing crowd of dancers to the table Leo and Raphael occupied, thanking the black-haired man when he offered a sweatingglass of water.

"Having fun?" Leo had to raise his voice to be heard over the new song.

Mei nodded, the motioned to the dance floor. "So how about it, Leo?"

His eyebrows almost collided with his hairline. "Uh..."

"Oh come on!" She smiled endearingly, trying to coax him onto the floor. "What'll it take to get you out there?"

Raphael rolled his eyes at Leonardo's hesitation and took Mei's hand. "Come on, Mei. I'll dance with you."

Mei's eyes widened, as did her grin as she allowed him to lead her back into the throng. Leonardo remained seated, silently watching as the two began their dance. Raphael moved gracefully for one with such amuscular build, and he pulled Mei to him as a Santana song began, attempting the tango. Between the two of them finding the right footing and laughing when one stepped on the other's foot, they looked as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world.

The blue-eyed ninja sipped his water, eyeing them, contemplating his reaction to Mei's teasing. His expression remained serious, though that didn't stop several women from asking him to dance. Even the waitress attempted to flirt with him, but she and the rest soon abandoned the endeavor when he was polite but distant. He remained sitting, watching as Raphael and Mei danced song after song, always with that easy laughter that lifted the darkness from the red-head's eyes.

Donny danced with a couple of women that night but soon came and sat with Leo, his face flushed from the exertion. Despite the continued exercise he felt great, though knew that when they got home he'd be exhausted.

"Where's Mei and Raph?" He yelled to Leo as the music's volume began to rise.

Leonardo pointed, then motioned to his watch. "We should grab them and get going!"

Donny nodded, and together they worked their way into the throng of people and pried the two out.

Both were laughing at some private joke but sobered up as they walked home. Mei hummed the chorus to the song that had last been playing, her steps light.

They'd just rounded the corner when the attack came.

Mei felt a hand around her neck, then across her mouth. She stood shocked as a cool pressuredug into her neck. A knife. She was tugged back, against an unfamiliar frame, the stench of alcohol filling her nostrils. She gagged against the filthy hand pressed against her mouth, bruising her lips.

The boys stopped a few steps away, turning at her small initial gasp and stared at the man behind her. Never truly caught off guard the three began to span out, forming a half circle around the man holding Mei, facing him.

Even though they weren't looking at anything but Mei's captor, all three could feel the sudden presence of more people, accomplices to the drunk. Raphael turned slightly so that he could see the drunk out of the corner of his eyes and the two men behind him. One had a bat. A glint of brass under the streetlights came from the other's right knuckles. Donatello and Leo backed into one another so that Donny watched the three men advance and Leo kept an eye on Mei.

"Give us your cash, or I make this pretty thing less pretty." Not an original line, but what did you expect from a drunken mugger? Mei groaned and knew enough not to move, not just yet. She calmed her mind and fought the adrenaline that would only make her muscles shake. She needed complete control.

She gagged against the man's hand as he brought his face down to her hair and inhaled deeply. His hand left her mouth, caressing her shoulder and traveling further. His unwanted advances made Mei's jaw clench as his hand stopped just short of her pant line. Grimacing she made herself stand still as he sighed, holding her tight against him. "You smell like flowers, pretty thing."

Leonardo's expression was calm, a false appearance judging by the tension in his frame. "Let Mei go, or I can't promise you anything."

The drunk laughed, his arm across Mei's stomach tightening as the knife in his other hand made a small cut in her neck. Blood swelled and began to slowly flow down her collarbone and into her thin sweater. She winced but didn't make a sound, her mind clear. She would not scream-drawing attention at this point would only increase the chance of getting herself hurt.

"You idiot. You surrounded and outnumbered. Unless you Superman, I don't think you's gonna get outta this one without handing over your wallets." The man with the bat laughed, nudging his companion.

"Drop the knife." Mei's voice took on a dead air, her eyes fogging as her Shin obi training allowed her to influencethe drunk'smind.

"This bitch crazy or sumthin'?" The bat-wielding man grinned, shaking his head. "Whachu talkin' 'bout, 'drop the knife'?"

The drunk dropped the knife.

"H-hey! Henry! Whachu doin'?"

"Release me." Mei commanded, her power swelling.

The drunk's arms fell to his sides and Mei stepped away. She kicked the knife away, the weapon skidding across the sidewalk and down into the sewer.

"Aw, shit, just get 'em!" The bat-man finally decided to take action, and the rest of his gang listened.

Raphael dodged easily as the brass knuckle wielder threw a punch to his face, knockingthe assailant'sarms away and spinning him off balance. When the man with the bat came at him he allowed the man's force and propulsion to spin him off course as Raphael backed up. He threw out a foot for good measure, tripping him and sending him sprawling to the sidewalk.

Donatello ducked out from under a blow that one man with green hair tried to land. Rolling away he popped up to his feet, holding up his hands to guard his face and planting his feet apart to balance his weight. The green haired man stopped and stared, then laughed, pointing. "Little man think he Jackie Chan!" He pulled out a knife, waving it menacingly. "Your Jackie Chan-wannabe moves gonna help you dodge this?"

Leonardo threw up an outside block against one punch, shifting his body weight to his back foot as he brought his front one up and kicked the on-coming attacker right under his jaw with the heel of his boot. Dropping back to a balanced footing he twisted his arms to lock the first man's hand between his forearms, then ducked under his next punch, stepping ever closer to him. As he got closer the man's balance weakened and he fell backwards, Leonardo releasing his arm so that he fell back onto the sidewalk.

Mei turned and ran from the last assailant, straight into the wall of the nearby building. Or rather, she used her running start to propel herself vertically up the wall and pushed off in the split second before gravity would have won, back flipping behind her would-be attacker. Dropping down into a crouch she did a half-spin, one leg sweeping out gracefully and swiping at the man's ankles, yanking his feet out from under him. He fell, and Mei placed one foot on the small of his back, pinning him down with all her weight. The drunk, having finally recovered, ran for her, grabbing her by her braid. She fell to her knees, arching her head back to alleviate the pressure, and then brought her elbow into the man's groin. He dropped down, clutching his sensitive area, the fight forgotten.

Raphael had the knuckle-wielder in a headlock, finding the proper pressure point and knocking him unconscious. The bat-man stood, going for Raphael again, this time without his weapon. He landed a punch to Raphael's jaw just as the red-head dropped the other man. Recovering, Raphael blocked his next punch, turning so that his back faced the other man and applying his elbow to the vulnerable spot just below his ribs. The man doubled over, falling to his knees.

Donatello was bleeding from a superficial wound on his bicep, but he'd knocked the knife out of the man's hand. Stepping to the side he psyched his opponent out and spun on his foot, bringing his other up so that his heel connected to the side of the man's face. The green-haired man fell back, clutching his cheekbone and eye.

Leonardo punched the man before him in the gut, and then knocked him backwards off his feet.

The battle was won, and they barely had to throw a punch. The entire thing lasted a mere30 seconds, and no one had yet seen them. Master Splinter would have been proud. Quickly they dissolved into the shadows as curious onlookers, having heard the noises of fighting, finally turned the corner. There was a shout for someone to call the police, and then the bat man, obviously the leader, urged his comrades up. They grabbed their unconscious companions and ran off into the night.

They entered April's apartment, Mei's neck crusted in her blood and Donny's shirt stained with his own. Splinter took one look at them, sighed, and muttered, "Kids."

* * *

_To Be Continued_


	6. Breakfast at April's

Chapter Six : "Breakfast at April's"

Author's Notes: How long has it been since I updated? I can't remember. But while I'm here, I'd like to start this author's notes by saying thank you to Reinbeauchaser (whose name I only just got after sounding it out to spell it in this document! Heh! Cute name!). Your lengthy reviews are by far the best encouragement out there. I'll go ahead and admit that your comments are the reason I went back and edited the first five chapters. Thanks for the kind words and the support and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic! Insert standard I-don't-own-these-characters disclaimers here.

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Maki Seiya was a patient man. One had to be, when one was involved in an organization such as the Foot. A person could spend years learning martial arts, as well as years climbing the ranks to be among the privileged few who were more than mere errand boys. While most considered "bad guys" to be quick to rush in, Maki preferred to think things completely through before submitting to a course of action. 

Once Master Shredder had gone insane Maki had vowed to seek his revenge for his former leader. This, he felt, was not a rash decision, as the female responsible for Shredder's insanity had attached herself to those like herself: the mutant turtles. She fit in perfectly with the freaks of nature, and those were the same abominations he'd been hunting since he'd joined the Foot.

Years had passed in which he'd hunted for them, tracing their (rare) sightings and keeping careful track of these reports. He, like all the Foot, were aware of April O'Neil's connection with the turtles. However, her popularity as a media personality had grown so much that an attack on her would draw too much attention to himself and his comrades. The consequences of such a foolish action would set him back, and it was the last thing he desired. Perhaps, if the time came when she could prove useful, he would exploit her.

However, his single-minded focus was the female.

Now he'd completed an alliance with the Dragon Lord, and the combined forces would no doubt hasten their inevitable encounter with the turtles. The alliance was both time-saving in the part of gathering information, but also painfully necessary for the Foot. Maki was ashamed to admit that, since Shredder's incapacitation, the Foot had fallen from glory. Many of the members had scattered to the wind, fearful for themselves. Shredder had been stronger than all of them, and he fell easily to the female's sorcery. The fact that she ran with their enemies only made her more terrifying, and so they'd abandoned those they'd pledged their lives to. What remained of the Foot was a ragtag, minor bunch that was incapable of the activities they'd once performed with ease. They'd fallen from grace and were no longer the terror they had been in their heyday.

However, combined with the Dragon Lord and his forces, the Foot would finally be allowed to defeat their long-time enemies, gain their revenge, and reclaim the streets of New York City as their own.

Right now Maki was in the underground subway, searching through the turtle's home. Since the discovery of their habitation it's all the Foot had done. The Dragon Lord's minions were not very good at looking for clues. They were not patient. Maki hunted for clues as to where the turtles had gone. The odd thing was, it didn't look like they'd moved on. Furniture still crowded the old platform, and the abandoned cars still housed belongings. Beds, old workout equipment, even a lab of sorts.

It was in this lab that Maki found the evidence that would appease the Dragon Lord...for now.

"What is this?" The Dragon Lord clutched the lab coat in one large hand, the material bunching and tearing under his claws.

Maki quickly took hold of the lapel, turning it over to show the Dragon Lord the words sewn into the pocket at the front: "Dr. L. Vigil, _Assay Chemicals_."

"I found it in one of the cabs...along with this." He held up a notebook with a simple gesture, flipping to the last page and reading from the precise lettering.

" 'Day four: Am still nauseous; coughing; throat raw and irritated, voice nearly gone; skin discoloration continues; shell sensitivity persists, as well as scute loss; bone loss across the carapace: exception center, where bone is still present; plastron dissolving; symptoms persist in all subjects (presumably)." Here the notes ended, and Maki looked up.

The Dragon Lord looked displeased, his great fangs grinding together. "And what is all that supposed to mean to me?"

"These notes indicate that at one point the turtles were sick. Presumably their sickness occurred just before they left, as this is the last page of writing in this notebook." Maki flipped to the next few pages, all of which were devoid of writing. "The creature who took these notes is meticulous; he would have continued his writing if he'd had the opportunity. Something must have happened to them, something that lead to their evacuation."

"You're relying on presumption, tiny human. Who's to know if what you're suggesting is true? Perhaps these are older notes the owner was reading over just before they left. Perhaps they are not as meticulous as you assume. There's a good chance you are wrong." The Dragon Lord motioned to the lab coat. "And I fail to see how this coat means anything to me."

Maki was about to speak when a member of the Foot approached, bowing and offering a single piece of glass fragment. Printed on one side were letters, though the words they'd once spelled out were lost. All that remained was "ay," and directly below that, "mica."

Maki handed this to the Dragon Lord, his expression smug beneath his mask. "There you are. Two separate items linked to this _Assay Chemicals_ company. I guarantee you that we will find more information with this Dr. L. Vigil."

The Dragon Lord gazed at the fragment, then closed his hand over it, crushing the glass into a fine powder. He held Maki's gaze, grinning grotesquely around his fangs.

"You'd better be right, Maki Seiya. For if you aren't you will pay with your hide. You need me far more than I need you."

Maki felt his stomach clench in apprehension, recognizing the ring of truth in the Dragon Lord's voice. He'd hoped the great beast wouldn't be smart enough to figure that out.

Perhaps he'd underestimated the Dragon Lord. The thought gave him chills.

* * *

Mei shot up in bed, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down her neck, causing the short hairs at the nape to stick to her skin. Her face was flushed, burning in the cool night air. She gulped in oxygen, trying to calm her racing heart. Her hands, clenched in her lap around the white cotton sheet that had been sent tumbling when she'd sat up, were trembling. 

Mei glanced over to April, asleep in the large bed the reporter had pushed into the corner of the room. The extra space had been needed for the air mattress she'd bought for Mei. Currently April slept facing the wall, her light snoring slightly muffled.

Mei took a deep breath, her heart slowing. She reflected on the nightmare than had awoken her. She recalled great fear, and the feel of talons piercing her skin. Mei shuddered at the memory, running her hands over her arms to ensure that no wounds marred her flesh. No blood smeared onto her hands, but she recalled feeling the slick liquid oozing over her limbs. Beyond the physical pain there was the mental torture of that laughter pounding into her ears, worming into her skull and bouncing around her brain, echoing for all eternity.

The Dragon Lord haunted her dreams.

With an inaudible sigh Mei silently climbed from bed, stepping lightly to the door. Before exiting she glanced at April's night stand, catching the blue-glowing time: 5:54 a.m.

On most days she would have already been awake by now, along with everyone else in the house. However, it was Sunday, and April had told them that Sunday's were her day to sleep in. That meant that their training would have to wait until later in the day, for if they disturbed her sleeping she would skin them alive (her exact words). They hadn't objected, and privately Mei was relieved to have a day where they could sleep in.

Or at least that was the theory. It seemed that Mei would notgetmuch extra sleep today. She knew instinctively that even if she laid back down and closed her eyes, she would not gain any more rest. She was awake now; both the terror of her dream and her natural rhythm would keep her from catching any more zzz's. This being the case Mei decided to keep herself occupied by making herself breakfast.

She padded down the stairs without a sound, the carpet soft against her bare feet. Mei slid her toes across the floor covering on the last stair, flexing so that the fibers tickled the bottom of her digits. Stepping down she ran a hand over the ornate wood capping the end of the banister, the smooth polish rubbing against the tips of her fingers. Entering the kitchen she slid her feet, the tile smooth yet firm beneath her.

She hadn't told anyone, not even Donny (who loved all new curiosities), that she'd noticed a heightened perception of sensation since she'd changed. Each touch, each caress, felt new and exciting, making her nerves sing. The first time she'd washed her hair she'd almost cried with the unfamiliarity of it. The foreign feeling of hair dragging through her fingers, of shampoo lathering and softening the tresses, was a pleasant shock. The tiny bubbles roaming over her hands had almost been too much for her, and she'd silently cried in delight.

Such a thing was so personal, so private, that she couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone. And as the days went on the newness expired, and the sensations became commonplace. However, if she concentrated enough, she could revisit those feelings, and whenever alone did as she did now-touched everything.

Carefully pulling a pan from the cabinet she traced a fingertip over the handle. The fine bumps in the black plastic that allowed for a better grip pricked at her skin. With great care so as not to make too much noise she placed the pan on the stove, then turned for the refrigerator. Ducking her head into the compartment she pulled out sliced deli ham, cheese, a green onion, eggs, milk, and butter. Deftly she balanced it all in her arms, nudging the refrigerator door shut with the heel of her foot.

She was shocked as she turned around to find Leo standing behind the island, watching her.

"Leo!" Her voice was a high whisper, her nerves on edge. He'd managed to sneak up on her, and as a result she'd almost dropped her armload and made a mess.

He looked abashed, clearly aware he'd startled her, and offered her an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Mei." He ran a hand through his rumbled dark curls, his other hand disappearing into the pocket of his cotton pajama bottoms.

"What're you doing awake?" She asked, depositing her goodies onto the island. She placed one hand over the eggs, which tended to travel over smooth surfaces. Stretching to reach the cabinets suspended over the island she stood on tiptoe, fingers closing over a glass mixing bowl and pulling it down. She put each egg in the bowl then closed the cabinet, turning on her heel to pull open a drawer next to the refrigerator and retrieve a fork and sharp edged knife. Putting those down she pulled a plate from the cabinet, placing that on the counter and picking up the knife once more. She began to chop the green onion into tiny bits.

"I woke up at 5 and couldn't get back to sleep. I saw you pass by and heard you head downstairs, so I thought I'd keep you company. Unless you wanted to be alone..?" Leo had been about to sit in the stool on the other side of the island but paused.

"No, no. Sit." She motioned with the knife as she spoke, then began cubing the slices of ham. "I woke up too. I can never get back to sleep once I wake up, so I thought I'd come downstairs and make something to eat." She glanced at him through her lashes, then pulled out the eggs and cracked them over the bowl.

"I see that." Leo watched the bones in the back of her hand move as she broke the eggs. His gaze dropped and he fell silent, looking slightly uncertain.

Mei added the ham and onion, then measured out the milk and added that as well. Returning the milk to the fridge she grabbed the salt and pepper, shaking some of the two into her mixture and then stirring it all together with the fork.

"What're you making?" He asked, eyes flickering to her face.

"A ham and cheese omelet." She offered him a smile, tossing her head to push her hair over her shoulder. She hadn't braided it last night, and didn't have anything to tie it back with at the moment. As a result the brunette locks tumbled over her shoulders and into her eyes. Once she'd made breakfast she'd go back upstairs and pull it back.

She looked up, smiling again as she finished mixing. "Do you want one?"

Leo put his elbows on the counter, leaning forward slightly, holding his hands together in front of him. He appeared to look at the omelet batter then nodded. "If it's not a problem..?"

"Of course it isn't." Mei resisted the urge to laugh at the suggestion that cooking would be any burden. Since she'd come to live with the boys she'd cooked for them on many occasions. She'd been shocked to find that none of them knew how to do more than make toast, and that the bulk of their diet consisted of junk food. Granted, considering their level of activity, such food was quickly burned off, but it was still unhealthy. So she'd begun making meals for them, and had quickly adjusted to making food for six people. In truth cooking was a form of meditation for Mei; she could quiet disturbed thoughts, or clear her mind quickly when she was bustling around the kitchen. This was why, after her nightmare this morning, she'd decided to cook breakfast; it was a good way to rid herself of the lingering effects of the terror.

"Just making sure." Leo caught her gaze for moment as she set down the fork, one corner of his mouth quirking in the beginnings of a smile.

Mei turned to the sink, reaching up and gathering her hair into her hands. Bunching the locks into one group she flicked her wrist quickly, twisting the hair and then flipping it over her shoulder. Once released the hair began to spin free from the gentle twist, but remained mostly together. She washed her hands and reached for a towel.

With her back turned Leonardo let his gaze wander, watching her hands run over the towel before it was thrown across her shoulder. His eyes fell from her shoulders to her legs, the twin columns smooth and bare. This was the first time he'd seen Mei without long pants-her pajama bottoms were cut short, leaving much of her leg exposed.

She had great legs, there was no denying that. Well formed and strong, their shape was pleasing as they tapered to her ankles. Currently she stood in front of the stove, dropping butter into the skillet. She balanced her weight on one leg, her opposite foot tucked behind the other and flexed so that the top of her foot pressed against the floor, knee slightly bent. Leo traced the curve of her hip down to her knee, then to her foot.

Catching himself he wrenched his eyes from her, appalled with himself. Mei was an equal, a woman he'd learned a great deal from, and here he was watching her as if he were a pervert. He hated himself at how easily he'd been able to objectify her. She had been a friend and confidante for these past years. She'd helped him expand his mind, and in turn he'd trained with her to enhance her physical defense abilities. She was not merely a pair of legs for him to gawk. Leo repeated this thought over and over, still refusing to allow himself to look at her.

He started as Mei turned from the stove to pick up the bowl. He met her gaze, a blush coloring his cheeks. He knew she was able to read his mind and catch whatever thoughts were on the surface, and he hoped she didn't. The last thing he wanted was for her to know he'd been staring at her legs.

She smiled, twin locks of hair on either side of her head falling free and framing her face. With a quick gesture that revealed her annoyance she shoved them behind her ears, turning back to the stove.

Leo had caught the fed up sigh that had escaped with that gesture. He stood, joining her next to the stove and watching as she poured part of the mixture onto the skillet.

"Where is your hair...holding-back...thing?"

She looked up at him in surprise, her eyebrows drawing together. "My hair tie?"

"Yeah, the rubber band you use to keep your hair in a braid."

"It's in my room, but April's still sleeping." She looked back at the omelet, waiting for the bottom to set. "I'll just get one when this is done."

Leo didn't say anything but headed back upstairs, his footfalls silent against the floor. When he returned he held a long dark blue cloth in one hand, looking slightly unsure.

"I didn't want to risk waking April up. Think you could use this?"

Mei blinked at him, holding his gaze. His effort surprised her-she hadn't indicated that her hair was irritating her, unless he'd caught the clues in her body language. She knew he was better at observing body language than most, but hadn't thought she was revealing her frustration. Still, for him to have been considerate enough to even entertain ideas about finding a way to help her disclosed a lot about his character. Granted, it was a minor thing, but Mei knew the importance of minor things. Grand gestures-buying dozens of roses, paying for an expensive dinner at a fancy restaurant, meant little to Mei.

It was a throwback to the way she was raised. In her home, when a boy was courting a girl, there was no Tiffany's to buy diamonds. Instead the boy would find other ways to show how he cared-offering her his most prized possession, or going out to a field to pick flowers for her himself. When Mei had moved to New York City and begun to understand how people above ground lived, she was puzzled by the dating habits she'd learned about. To her, having a man call a florist to pay for flowers meant little. There was no effort on the part of the man, save the phone call. The florist wrote out the card, cut and arranged the flowers, and delivered them. To Mei, it felt as if there was no true feeling behind the gesture.

Little things, however, meant a lot. Having a man cook you dinner himself said that he was willing to go out of his way to help you. To her, the most romantic thing someone could do would be to take care of her-make her dinner, run her a warm bath, give her a massage-and just spend time with her.

So Leo finding a way to make cooking breakfast easier-or at least less aggravating-touched her more than anything else.

She realized she was staring at him, her mouth slightly open, and she could tell he was growing more and more uncomfortable. With a shake she smiled at him, then nodded. "Yeah, that should work." She was about to take it when she realized that her omelet was in the fast lane toward Ruined City. She picked up the skillet, turning her wrist slightly so that the egg on top slid to the edge of the set egg. With her other hand she reached into the cheese packet, pulling out a handful and slowly sprinkling them evenly over the egg. Several locks of hair fell in front of her and she blew upwards, trying to get them out of the way.

"Just a sec..." She trailed off as Leo moved behind her, fingers brushing over her forehead and cheeks as he began to gather her hair together behind her. She barely managed to keep from dropping the skillet as emotion welled within her.

His long fingers tangled in her hair, combing through the locks to arrange them more neatly behind her. Bringing the tips of his fingers to the crown of her head he raked them back, short nails lightly dragging against her scalp, sending a ticklish shiver down her spine. Holding the majority of her hair in one hand he gently pulled them all back away from her face. Lifting the cluster he held in one hand he feathered his fingers over the back of her neck, wrangling the strays.

Mei bit her lip against a moan at the fresh stimulation, fighting the urge to tip her head back into his fingers. The skin of her neck prickled into goosebumps, the muscles of her abdomen clenching as her stomach did a thrilling twist.

Leonardo tried not to think about his proximity, or the feel of her hair in his hands. The fine strands tangled around his thumb, dragging against the sensitive skin between his fingers. He quickly began to name every country in alphabetical order, struggling to keep control of himself. He didn't know exactly what would happen if he lost control, but he had a feeling it would be something that he would later feel guilty about. And no doubt it would ruin his friendship with Mei.

Quickly he wrapped the bandanna around the thick cluster of hair, tying the ends into a knot to hold it all together. Leo stepped back, almost colliding with the island.

"I, um..."

"Yeah. Thanks." Mei glanced at him over her shoulder, looking slightly flushed. It threw him off for a moment, until he remembered that she was cooking, and figured it was due to the heat from the stove.

He worried that he'd crossed the line in getting that close to her. Perhaps he should have just let her fix her own hair, and left it at that. Certainly it would have been safer than what he had done. Consciously he hadn't intended to tie back her hair for her. Suddenly there he'd been, standing closer to her than he admittedly needed to, surrounded by the scent of passionflower and omelet. He'd marveled at the texture of her hair, so silky against his palm. Even now he could recall the feeling, a phantom sensation that made his spine prickle.

The scary thing was it had made him want to touch more of her, to hold her. And that was definitely inappropriate, as far as friends went. So he backed away, around the island, and back into his seat. He couldn't bring himself to speak, afraid of what he might say to incriminate himself. It was already an awkward moment; he didn't want to add to it by putting his foot in his mouth.

Deftly Mei folded the omelet over and then turned, tipping the skillet so that the omelet slid onto the plate. Replacing the skillet she retrieved silverware and a napkin, and with a flourish presented it all to Leo, a smile lighting her eyes. The awkward atmosphere, which a moment ago had kept Leo from speaking, disappeared with her grin. He relaxed, relieved that whatever weirdness he'd imagined had been exactly that-imagined.

"There you are. Enjoy." She held his gaze for a moment, holding out the silverware and napkin in one hand.

Leo reached up and took the proffered utensils, his fingers closing around hers. She didn't pull away, and Leo felt it again-that surge of feeling. He began to remove his hand but stopped. Something in her gaze gave him pause, and instead of backing away he held, wondering.

Mei's fingers were cool, curled around the utensils and pressed against his palm. Slowly she relaxed them, brushing her skin against his, the tiny hairs on the back of her fingers transmitting even the most minute of contact directly into her brain. She bit the inside of her lower lip, wanting the glorious, ticklish, sensual feeling to continue.

Donatello jumped down the last stair, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Hey, Leo. I thought I heard something down here."

Mei quickly pulled back, turning to the stove and busying herself with preparing another omelet. Leo, for his part, withdrew his hand as if nothing had occurred, though he was still reeling from the brief contact.

Donatello inhaled deeply, sighing appreciatively. "Mei, it smells great!" He patted her on the shoulder then made a beeline for the coffee maker."I think I'll put on a pot of John."

"You mean Joe, Donny." Mei corrected automatically, not looking at him.

Donny nodded. "That's what I said." He started to fiddle with the coffee maker, apparently oblivious to what he'd walked in on.

Of course, Mei and Leo weren't sure exactly what he'd walked in on, either. But they did know they wished he hadn't.

* * *

To Be Continued... 


End file.
